Forbidden Love
by ANGiiEbaby
Summary: A twisting tale of love forbidden. Rated for language and thematic elements/adult themes in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer**_: I don't own the characters, or their names, or the shiny red car, or anything. They belong to … I really don't know exactly, but I'm sure CBS and Martha Williamson have something to do with it all.

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_**Forbidden Love –**_ _Chapter One_

_True love; it almost seems like finding it is impossible, like some wild dream that has only the slightest chance of coming true. Why is that? Why is it so hard to find? To be able to look into someone's eyes and see down into the depths of their soul, to be so connected that communication with words is unnecessary, to be completely and utterly perfect for each other … that's true love, and that's what I feel for you, right here, now, in this instant; it's electrifying …_

The words of the novel seemed to hang in her mind like fog long after they had been read by Monica, whose eyes drooped lazily as she sighed a long dreamy sigh. It was a stormy day, rain falling heavily and thunder rumbling in the distance; a perfect day for lying about with the fire blazing and a sappy romance novel to keep busy with. Clouds had been hanging low in the sky for several days, with the aroma of imminent rain in the air, but the sky had only just released its heavy burden a few hours ago. The rain came down harder as every minute passed, the wind howling in the trees, almost as though the leaves were singing a song of thanks for the downpour.

Monica sighed again as she listened to the mesmerizing sounds of nature. She marked the page in her book with a bookmark and turned it over to examine the front cover. She studied the photograph on the cover; a blonde haired man, who appeared to be a prince, was sitting on a tall, handsome white horse. His bejeweled hand was outstretched and was touching the face of a young girl with shabby clothes and bare feet. While his clothes proclaimed royalty and wealth, her dress was dull, old, and slightly dirty. Her face, in stark opposition to her clothing, was stunningly beautiful and her auburn colored hair was blowing elegantly in the wind. Her maple colored eyes sparkled with love for the man on the horse. The prince was looking, not at her, but over his shoulder at another man, his expression troubled, for this man was running towards him and the young girl with his fist raised in the air and his mouth open as if he were yelling, revulsion etched in ever inch of his face. The man was older, with graying hair and wrinkled skin, and he was dressed like the young prince, in expensive clothes and sparkling jewels. In the background stood a magnificently large castle, complete with moat and drawbridge.

It did not take an explanation to understand what the photograph was depicting. The prince was in love with the peasant girl, but the king, his father, did not approve of her. They were not allowed to love each other, hence the title of the novel, Forbidden Love. 

Monica narrowed her eyes as she looked up from the book; it was all very romantic, really. She looked across the room to the big leather armchair next to the fire. Its occupant was also reading a book, one that was so old that its leather cover was chipped and its title was obscured. The reader looked thoroughly engrossed with the book, his expression serious and his green eyes zooming across the pages with exceptional speed. She looked at him for a while; he was so preoccupied with his reading that she was free to look without being noticed. His sandy blonde hair was tossed lazily about his head, but it matched his appearance perfectly. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and an oversized gray sweater that was old and worn, but comfortable nonetheless. The glasses that he wore for reading made him look extremely intellectual and also extremely handsome as the flames from the fire reflected in the lenses.

Andrew, who wasn't as engrossed in the book as he might have appeared, was enjoying the moment immensely. He had felt her eyes on him the moment she looked, but was completely willing to let her look, uninterrupted, for as long as she liked. After about five minutes, she finally averted her eyes back to the photograph on the cover of her romance novel, and Andrew inwardly smiled, for he had been distracted by her and had read the same sentence seventeen times. He stole a look at her then and saw that she was, once again, studying the cover of her book with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. He watched her and wondered how long it would be before she noticed him looking at her, and almost as soon as the thought escaped his mind, she looked up and met his eyes. They both smiled at each other at the same time and then she gestured toward her book and said,

"You know what I hate about these stupid books?" Without waiting for his answer, she continued, "They're just so predictable; all of them have the same sappy plot. A man and a women fall deeply in love and it's great and they're going to live happily ever after … and then something terrible happens, or someone says they can't be together, and then there is a lot of angst and crying and at the end, the man and the woman get back together and it's suddenly ok with everyone who had a problem with it in the first place."

Andrew chuckled softly at the look of exasperation on her face and her obvious frustration with the book. He wasn't quite sure he had understood what she had said exactly, but he simply stated,

"And yet, you read them anyway," and nodded towards the stack of paperback books on the coffee table. She let out another sigh and frowned again.

"Well, yeah, I just wish …" But exactly what she wished, she wasn't sure.

"I know … you wish that some books were different, that just one would end differently than the last ten. But different how? Should the author kill off someone in the end, or perhaps the young lovers should lose each other forever? You'd think twice about reading another one with a horrible ending like that," he said pointedly as he watched her flip through the last pages of her book. She was still frowning, but somehow it was different.

How could he possibly have known that about her? She couldn't recall ever saying anything of the sort to him, and yet he knew exactly what she had been thinking at the very same moment.

"It's not just you, though," he said airily, "most women wouldn't read them if it weren't for the happily-ever-after."

"Oh … right," she replied, pushing her previous thoughts from her mind, slightly embarrassed. Of course, he was talking about women in general, not just her; it was silly to think that he had been referring to her specifically, but even sillier that she found herself disappointed that he wasn't. She inwardly scolded herself for entertaining such thoughts as those; of course Andrew couldn't read her mind, he was just smart when it came to literature. She looked away from him then, her disappointment still raw, but starting to fade. She stared out the window and watched the rain fell in the muddy yard of the log cabin. The three of them, her, Andrew and Tess, were spending thanksgiving together for the first time in a very long while. Usually the demand for angels around the holidays was high; lost souls needed finding and families needed repairing more during this season than any other combined. The three angels were more than willing to do whatever and be wherever the Father needed them. This holiday season, however, the Father had different plans for them.

They had just completed a long, rigorous assignment that had lasted more than six months. A junior high school bombing had turned a small Colorado town upside down, and they, along with several other angels, had to stand by and watch it happen before flying in to the rescue. The small school building had been damaged beyond repair and had to be torn down and completely rebuilt. Counseling had to be given to the many parents who lost children and temporary arrangements had to be made for those children who had survived. Tess was head of the committee for rebuilding the school and implementing new security measures to prevent another attack. Monica was in charge of counseling the parents who lost children and also providing counsel to those students who had not been killed, but had lost siblings and friends in the disaster. Andrew had done his part the very first day, escorting more than thirty kids under the age of fifteen Home. The days that followed were horrific and emotionally draining. The work was long and hard, on Monica especially, who, on several occasions, had come home and been reduced to tears from all the stress. That's where Andrew had come in, supporting her and helping whenever she needed a hand. Andrew had adapted to casework so well that he had Monica wishing that he could be there for her on all her cases.

In the end, everything worked out as well as anyone could have hoped for; far from perfect, but the school was in working order and the initial shock of the bombing had worn off. The angels had been working nonstop, and the Father had been merciful in giving them this holiday season to spend together, something that rarely happened with angels around this time of year. They were extremely grateful for this unordinary gift.

They were only now on their third day of vacation and were running out of things to keep busy with. Thanksgiving wasn't until the following day and Tess was already preparing dinner in the kitchen. Monica had offered to help with the cooking several times, but had always been turned down, for reasons unknown to her. And so she sat, reading romance novel after romance novel and getting more and more frustrated as the pages turned with the repetitive subplots, still slightly disappointed with Andrew's earlier comment.

He could tell by the look on her face that she was either upset or disappointed, however subtle it was, and he wondered if it was something he had said.

"You okay?" He asked her, looking at her with raised eyebrows and a funny, lopsided grin.

"Yeah," she replied with a smile, almost too cheerfully, " I, uh … what are you reading?" She nodded toward the old leather bound book in his lap. He pursed his lips and said,

"It's called In Silence We Lie." Monica looked at him curiously and before she could even ask, he added,

"And before you ask, I don't have any idea what it's about, and if I did, I probably wouldn't be able to explain it to you. It's one of the most difficult books to understand that I've ever attempted to read."

There it was again, the odd feeling that he could read her thoughts and knew what she was about to say before she even thought of it entirely. She stared at him again and her expression must not have been so subtle this time, for Andrew laughed out loud and shook his head comically.

"What's so funny?" She asked, wondering if he had indeed read her thoughts again and thought what she was thinking was a big joke.

"It's just the look on your face … you look like you've just swallowed a spoonful of cough medicine or something. Are you sure you're alright?" He asked her, his concern overpowering his desire to laugh. She grinned sheepishly and nodded her head, embarrassed again, because she knew that he would make her tell him what was on her mind. He could always tell when she was upset, sad, mad … whatever the feeling, he always spotted it and squeezed it out of her one way or another. She took a breath and said,

"I was just … um, well I was just thinking that you could …" She faltered on the words, not quite sure how to say it properly. "It's really stupid actually… it just felt that just now you were reading my mind. I mean, I was just thinking about asking you that question, but you said it word for word the way I was thinking it and … I don't know, I just … I know that's dumb, I'm sorry …" She looked away then and she could feel her face going red. She only realized how ridiculous she sounded when she said it out loud. Now she felt like a complete idiot.

Andrew studied her face and tried to think of an appropriate response to this. He didn't think it was stupid in the least; on the contrary, it was one of those things that Monica sometimes said that made him step back from the situation and think. Sometimes when she made comments like that, he felt like he understood more than she did.

"Well, they say that great minds think alike. Maybe we're just two friends who happen to be in the company of each other's great mind. Personally though, I think I know you a lot better than you give me credit for.

"For example, I know that you like three creams and one sugar in your coffee. You haven't ever told me that specifically, but I've seen you make it enough times to know by now. I know that when it comes to music you prefer classical to all the new stuff they've come up with these days, and that you hate TV, but love watching Disney movies, your favorite being The Little Mermaid. I know that you love rain, but hate thunderstorms, especially when you have to be out in them. I know that you love taking long bubble baths, but hate swimming pools and the ocean. I know that you love romance novels, cheesy and weird as they may be, and I know that you yourself are a hopeless romantic. I know that you love your job and the Father so much that you would do anything for Him, but I also know that you secretly entertain thoughts of being human and having a family. I know the reason that you work so hard on all your cases is because you're trying to prove yourself to both Him and Tess, and that your greatest fear is failure. I know you," he finished with a grin, for every time he said something that he knew about her, she smiled bigger and bigger until she was laughing out loud. He continued,

"So of course I can't read your mind, but I know you well enough to sometimes know what you're thinking," he said with a wink, "and in my opinion, that's a very special thing."

She nodded in agreement with him. She could always count on him, no matter what the occasion, to bring her up from down. Talking to him was refreshing, almost like a glass of cool water when she was thirsty. Sure, she could talk to Tess too, and she was great support whenever Monica had something to say, but with Andrew … she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something with Andrew was different. Tess was a great friend, one of the greatest she'd ever had, and she was like a mother figure, always teaching and encouraging. Andrew, though, was unlike any friend she'd ever had before. They had more than just a sibling-like relationship; 'just friends' seemed like a let down to their relationship from the outsider's point of view. They both knew that they were more than 'just friends,' that there was something deeper to it than just that, but the could never quite figure it out.

Andrew rose from the fluffy armchair that he had been inhabiting all afternoon, stretching and yawning loudly. "What's say you and I go into the kitchen and help Tess with the Dinner? She's been working all day and, though she might not admit it, I bet she could use the help. And if she won't let us help, we could go for a walk in the woods," he suggested, walking over to the window and peering out the blinds. "We could both use the fresh air, and it's finally stopped raining." He let the blinds swing back into place as he walked over to the couch that she had been sprawled on for the better part of the day. He eyed the stack of books on the coffee table, the topmost of which was the one she was currently reading, Forbidden Love. He looked back at her and with charming melodrama he stretched out his hand, touching her cheek softly and said,

"C'mon Princess …"

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More soon, I swear! 

Love, A


	2. Chapter 2

In the woods, the air was cool and crisp and the aroma of fresh rain hung all around them. Monica and Andrew had opted to take their walk in the woods, for Tess had indeed denied their offers to help once again. Andrew suspected that the reason she didn't want them near the dinner was because of Monica's reputation in the kitchen, but Tess would never say that to her. It was just easier to keep them both away until it was ready so that Monica wouldn't feel left out.

They had walked together for a long while, not chatting much or about anything in particular, just walking and enjoying each other's company. It was surprisingly much more relaxing than sitting around and reading, and certainly much more invigorating. The woods were beautiful any time of the year, but there was something about the autumn season, and especially after a rain, that made the colors and smells more vibrant and appealing. The reds, oranges, yellows and the occasional spit of green made the forest look more like a magical kingdom than a wood tucked away in the Colorado Rockies.

Monica had walked ahead of Andrew, claiming that she wanted to pick some flowers to make an arrangement for the dinner table. "If I can't help cook, I'll at least make some decorations. I mean, it's the least I can do with all the hard work Tess is doing all by herself, right?" He had agreed with her, and she had set off on her quest to find flowers for the table. She was only about ten feet ahead of him, darting back and forth across the muddy path whenever she found a cluster of flowers that she liked. After a half-hour or so, Monica was finally satisfied with her collection and at Andrew's suggestion, they started back to the cabin. They walked in silence for a while, glancing at each other every so often and smiling. They sun was beginning to peak through the clouds and the light was radiating through the trees, flickering and dancing in the leaves and reflecting in Monica's auburn hair.

"That's a beautiful bouquet," Andrew said, nodding towards the flowers she held in her arms, "they're all so different, but they go together perfectly." She smiled at him again and picked one from the bouquet, a pretty, red carnation and held it out for him.

"I picked this one for you."

Andrew smiled a big smile and withdrew his hand from behind his back. In it was the most beautiful red rose that Monica had ever seen. The petals were full and the color was so vibrant and so deep that it was breathtaking. The stem and leaves were of the brightest emerald green, and there wasn't a thorn in site.

"And I picked this for you," he said, exchanging flowers with her.

"How did you …" she looked at the rose, in awe of it's perfection and beauty, and then back at him, shaking her head, "I didn't see any roses on the path …" She touched it and felt the velvety softness of the petals and in that instant, a feeling rose up in her that made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. She didn't know what it was, and she had never felt anything of the sort before. It wasn't a bad feeling, but the strength of it almost frightened her.

"I … th-thank you, I … it's beautiful," she whispered, shaking her head again as if she were trying to rid her mind of something intruding. Andrew was still looking at her, trying to read the expression on her face. It was not the reaction that he had initially expected, but it touched him deeply to know that she was in such awe of something as simple as a flower. There were times when she really surprised him, and this was one.

"You're welcome," he said, and then he noticed the tears in her eyes and stepped closer.

"What's wrong?" He asked, reaching out and tucking a strand of her long hair behind her ear. Monica closed her eyes and a lone tear trickled down her cheek.

"Nothing … nothing's wrong, I …" she started after she opened her eyes, finding herself, once again, at a loss for words. She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head again.

"Hey Princess, come here …" he said softly, using the nickname that he had christened her with earlier. She took a step towards him and he took her in his arms and hugged her tight. "You know you can talk to me," he whispered in her ear, "no matter what it is, you can always tell me what's bothering you … always." He pulled back from her then so that he could look into her eyes. He brushed his thumb across her cheek, wiping the tear away and whispered again, "Please tell me." She nodded and took a deep breath before saying,

"It's not that something's wrong exactly … it's this feeling I got when you gave me this rose. I can't explain it, I've never felt like that before and … it scared me a little," she admitted shyly, unable to look away from the deep pools of green that were his eyes. Andrew nodded and replied,

"Well, when you gave me this carnation, I had a feeling too. My heart jumped I think, or skipped a few beats, maybe. It was hard to breathe for a second and just as fast as it came, it was gone again. Was it something like that?"

Monica found herself, once again, staring at Andrew in awe. She nodded, but couldn't figure out what to say in reply, so she said nothing. Andrew hadn't really expected her to say anything back; he understood how she felt and didn't see any reason for her to say it out loud. He decided that it was time to change the subject to something lighter, something that wasn't so serious. It was time to relax a little.

"So, we should probably head back. We've been gone a while, and Tess might start to worry," he said, nodding in the direction of the cabin.

"Yeah, you're probably right," she replied, shifting her bouquet of flowers to her other arm, but keeping her rose in her right hand by itself. They walked along the muddy path in silence again, looking everywhere but at each other; they were both feeling a little awkward after their 'strange feelings' moment. Neither one of them had noticed that the clouds had crossed in front of the sun again and when they were still five minutes from the cabin, the sky opened up and poured harder than it had all day, rain coming down by the bucket full and soaking the two angels within seconds.

They started running, and almost immediately, Monica lost her balance and nearly slipped in the mud. Andrew had known what was going to happen a split-second before and had caught her around the waist just in time, and he held onto her until they were safely at the back door of the cabin. Before they could open it though, the sky flashed and thunder cracked through the air so loud that Monica jumped a mile and screamed in surprise.

When they got inside, they saw that Tess was waiting by the window, looking out at the storm apprehensively. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw them and said,

"If I wasn't so worried about the two of you, I would have your heads for coming in this house drippin' like that! The sky's been getting' darker and darker over the last hour, I can't believe you didn't come back sooner!" She wasn't angry, but she was extremely protective of them, and they both apologized for making her worry.

"Sorry, Tess," Andrew said, "we were in the woods and couldn't see the clouds coming back. We didn't notice it getting darker since it was already so dark." Tess shook her head and replied,

"It's alright baby, no need to apologize. Just be more careful next time … that lightning looked awfully close." She shuddered as she thought of what could have happened, and then noticed that Monica was shivering so bad that her teeth were chattering. Tess suggested a hot shower and warm clothes for them both. "And I'll have some hot soup ready for you when you get back down, ok? How does that sound?" She asked.

"T-that s-s-sounds g-great," Monica stuttered through chattering teeth, nodding her head gratefully. Tess seemed to notice the bouquet of flowers in Monica's arms just as she was about to turn and go up the stairs.

"Those flowers are beautiful, Baby," she said warmly, even though some had broken stems and drooping petals, "I have a vase that they would look lovely in. Why don't you let me fix them up while you have a hot bath?" Monica smiled at Tess and handed her the flowers, but a second later, her smile disappeared and she stepped back from Tess looking slightly alarmed. She looked down at her muddy hands, and then on the floor below and behind her as if she were looking for something, and then with a stricken expression, hurried from the room and up the stairs.

Andrew, who knew immediately that it was her red rose she had been looking for, looked at Tess and shrugged his shoulders in response to her curious look. He didn't feel that he could explain the rose, and why Monica seemed to be upset about losing it, to Tess just then. He was still holding the red carnation from Monica in his right hand, and averted his eyes from Tess's when she looked from the flower to him.

"I think I'll go get cleaned up too," he said hastily, not looking directly at her. She nodded in agreement, still perplexed by Monica's behavior, but she let it go. Whatever it was, Tess was sure it would be resolved soon enough without her nosing in, and with that thought, she turned and headed back into the kitchen with Monica's flowers.

As soon as Tess was out of the room, Andrew hurried up the stairs, hoping to catch Monica before she got in the shower. He was just about to knock on her closed door when he heard the water turn on from her bathroom. He lowered his fist and sighed, deciding that he could talk to her just as well after they both had gotten cleaned up and changed. He headed to his own room and turned on the shower, and as he stood under the steaming hot water, he could himself thinking about the feeling he had encountered with Monica in the woods. They were just flowers, picked from the muddy ground, but for some reason, the simple exchange had caused a stirring in both of them, and it left Andrew feeling very confused and he was sure that Monica must have been feeling the same way. He couldn't recall ever having a similar feeling like it before, and it was slightly unnerving.

He finished his shower and as he was pulling on a pair of dry pants and a clean sweater, a spit of red flashed in the corner of his eye from the direction of his bedside table. He turned to look and he saw that it was a rose, as perfect and beautiful as the one he had just given to Monica. He grinned and looked up to the ceiling and gave a nod of thanks to the heavens, taking it as a nudge to go and talk to her. He walked over to the table and picked up the rose, observing that it was even more breathtaking then the other one, and then as a second thought, put it back down. He wanted to talk to her first, and then if she got upset, he knew that the rose was a perfect way to get her in a good mood again. He was on his way towards the door when he, on a fleeting whim, backtracked to the bathroom to check his appearance in the mirror. Satisfied with what he saw, he headed out of his room and down the hall to hers and knocked on the door, feeling, for reasons unknown to him, slightly nervous.

Monica was combing her wet hair when she heard the knock on her door, and for a moment, she thought about not answering and pretending to be asleep. She knew that it was Andrew. But as much as she wanted to convince herself otherwise, she really did want to see him … she needed to see him. And so she put her comb down, slipped into her bathrobe, and was tying it around her waist as she answered the door. Andrew looked surprised when she opened it and said,

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that you weren't-" but he was interrupted by Monica, who shook her head and said,

"It's ok, just … come in." She swung the door open wide enough for him to come through, and then shut it again behind him. She didn't say anything, but went to her closet, grabbed some clothes, and shut herself in her bathroom. She tossed the clothes on the counter and looked in the mirror, slightly annoyed with herself that she let Andrew in when she wasn't dressed and looked terrible. She thought it would be rude to make him wait long, so she did what she could to her wet hair, and decided that she didn't care what she looked like. It was just Andrew anyway.

When she reemerged from the bathroom, Andrew's breath nearly caught in his throat and he was revisited by the strange feeling from the woods. She was dressed so simply, in plaid pajama pants that greatly resembled the ones that he had been wearing earlier, and an oversized t-shirt that he thought might have been his once … but something about her and the way she looked just then was captivating. He had never really realized how beautiful she was, and in that instant, he thought he knew where the odd feelings were coming from. His thoughts were interrupted, however, when Monica spoke.

I'm sorry I walked out so quickly earlier, I was just so cold …" she said, knowing immediately from the look in his green eyes that he didn't buy that excuse for a second. She sighed and apologized again. "Ok, that's not why ,,,"

"Mon, it's ok. It wasn't your fault that you fell. It was just a flower …" Andrew said softly, knowing that she was talking about losing her rose. She shook her head in disagreement,

"No," she said, "it wasn't just a flower. It was my favorite flower and … it was from you." She bit her lip hard to ward off the tears that she could feel forming in her eyes, and she felt like an absolute idiot for not being able to control her emotions. Andrew, once again, felt his heart jump and his throat close up slightly, making breathing a little harder than it normally should have been. He was still processing what she had said and didn't notice that she had started talking again until she was halfway through her sentence.

"… doesn't matter, I know I'm just being stupid," she said, looking at the floor. Andrew couldn't recall ever disagreeing more with something in his entire life. He was frowning as he rose from her bed and walked over to where she was standing, completely overcome with the desire to make her feel better. Just like he had done in the woods, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and this time, when he came in contact with her skin, he felt a shock in his fingers, and judging by the look in her eyes, she had felt it too. He didn't know what to think about that, but he came to the ridiculous conclusion that he must have shocked her on accident, the way it sometimes happened in the winter when there was static electricity in the air. It was stupid to think it was anything more.

He pulled his hand away quickly after that, and decided that he would politely excuse himself. It was too much to deal with all at once, and he needed some time alone to think. He told her that he would be in his room for a while, reading or something, if she needed him. She nodded her acknowledgment and watched him go, wanting very much for him to stay. He was halfway to her door, when he remembered the rose, and turned back.

"Hey," he said suddenly, "come with me for a sec …" He held out his hand, waiting for her to take it, and he held his breath in the instant before they touched, preparing for another shock, but it didn't come. They walked down the hall together and before he opened his bedroom door, he looked at her and smiled. She returned his smile with a shy one of her own, and a look of curiosity. She had absolutely no idea why he wanted her to come to his room, or what there could possibly be to see that she hadn't already seen. Her question was answered, however, when he opened the door and led her inside.

There, on his nightstand, was a rose … a rose more beautiful even than the one he had given her earlier. Monica could hardly believe her eyes, and as he put the flower in her hand, she lost the fight against her tears, and let them run down her cheeks like rain.

He watched her cry, and he hated it. All Andrew wanted to do was hold her, and as he pulled her into his arms, he felt that shock once again. He smiled to himself and dismissed his scientific theory on static electricity. It was absolute rubbish.

* * *

More soon!

Love, A


	3. Chapter 3

NOTE

If you have been sending messages to my e-mail, I'm totally not getting them because that e-mail is six-thousand years old and no longer works. If you want to chat, e-mail me at my hotmail ID (AngLuvzYou) and I will be able to get back to you there! AND sorry for the wait ... busy life, ya know! Thanks for the reviews girls! Keep 'em coming cause that encourages me soooo much! And already today, someone has pointed a little mistake out that totally changes the meaning of a sentence! THANK YOU!

Love, A

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Monica sat in her room alone late that night, re-reading the novel that she had finished earlier that afternoon, for no other reason than that she had nothing better to do and couldn't sleep. Her mind was full to the brim with thoughts from the day, or previous day, as the clock had just turned 12 a.m. She was exhausted, not so much physically, but mentally, much like she usually was after completing a tough days' assignment, and she thought she knew why. She found that her mind kept wandering away from her and fixing upon Andrew and the time they had spent together. It was much the same as every other day that they were together and extraordinarily different at the same time.

She wanted to know what that feeling had been, that flutter in her heart from the woods, and that she'd felt again in her room, and then Andrew's. She wanted someone to come in her room this instant and explain to her, in detail, everything about it and why she had felt it. This thought consumed her so much that for a moment, she half expected someone to come bursting through her door. But, of course, she knew that nobody was going to come to her with a big book of answers, and she felt foolish of herself to believe so. She decided then that she would try to read again, instead or dwelling on the feeling and what it could or could not possibly mean to her.

She picked up the novel again, flipped to a random page, and began reading in the middle of a paragraph. The words seemed to jump up at her from the page. The main character of the story, the girl with auburn hair, was writing in a journal about the blonde haired prince that she had spent the day with in secret. She wrote about everything they had done and seen from the moment they had met early in the morning until they arrived back at her shabby peasant house and he had kissed her goodnight. She put the journal away then, and prepared for bed. As she went to turn off the lights, however, the young girl decided as an afterthought to add one more thing to the small, leather bound book. She wrote,

_I know that what we are doing is wrong, at least according to the law. He's a prince, and I'm just a peasant girl. I hate sneaking around, but we would be in so much trouble if anyone ever found out. I don't know what to do. Today, when he touched my hand, I felt something strange, like a jolt to my heart. I never felt that before today. I think I might be falling for him. I've been trying so hard not to, but lately, it seems like there is some greater power in control, and I have no choice in the matter. What will happen if I fall in love? I try not to think about it, but somehow it always creeps into the back of my mind. It frightens me terribly to think of losing him, but I can see no other way. We're not allowed to love each other. _

Monica finished reading the girl's entry, and for a moment, found that she could not breathe. She was not stupid and she hadn't missed the irony that screamed at her from the novel's old pages. The blonde haired prince, and the auburn haired girl … that could be a coincidence as easily as anything, but … the way she described her feelings and … her fear? The hairs on Monica's neck stood on end as she thought of the probability of sharing the hair color of a fictional character, who also seemed to share the same strange "jolt" of a feeling for someone with the same hair color as the person she was feeling it for … and then she had an instant, horrific headache.

_I must be out of my mind, _she thought miserably, tossing the worn out book to the floor. She shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the intruding thoughts, and decided abruptly that sleep was out of the question and coffee was in. She climbed out of bed and shoved her feet into a pair of slippers, opened her door quietly and headed down the stairs. She hadn't quite arrived in the kitchen when she smelled the aroma of coffee that she loved so much, and wondered if she was so tired that she was imagining smells now, as well as heart connections to fairy tales. Upon entering, however, she saw that she was not imagining the smell at all.

There, holding a cup of coffee, stood Andrew. Monica's eye's narrowed and in her surprise, the only thing she could think of to say was,

"You don't like coffee …" He grinned and nodded towards the stove, where a kettle was rapidly boiling milk, and a pouch of instant hot chocolate lay beside it.

"This," he said, sliding the mug of coffee across the counter to her, "is for you … three creams and one sugar." She took a sip, letting the velvety, bittersweet taste that she loved so much calm her agitated nerves. It was perfect.

"How did you know that I was coming down to get coffee?" She asked him, not exactly surprised, but still intrigued with the fact that he had seemed to read her thoughts yet again.

"I didn't know," he said, "but I saw your light on when I passed by your room. I couldn't sleep and I thought a hot drink would help. I was going to bring you that on my way back up." He nodded towards her cup of coffee, which was now nearly empty. She nodded her understanding, and watched him as he fixed his cup of hot chocolate, wondering what the heck was going on inside her head.

Andrew was also struggling with thoughts from the day's events, though he hid it from Monica a lot better than she was hiding it from him. He always knew when there was something up with her, as much as she tried to hide it from him and pretend that everything was dandy.

"Hey," he said softly, "I know something's bothering you, and before you try to convince me otherwise …" for she had opened her mouth to argue, "I think we should talk." He didn't give her time to consider his request, he just walked away, out of the kitchen and towards the back door of the cabin. There was a patio swing out there, and it was a right lovely place to sit and have a chat. Monica sighed heavily, and seeing that she obviously had no choice in the matter, she refilled her cup of coffee and followed him outside.

The air was cool, but not too cold to sit outside and enjoy the sights and sounds of the mountains at night. The stars were unusually bright, as they often were the night after a storm, and as Monica sat down beside Andrew in the creaking swing, she fixed her eyes upon them in an effort to prolong the silence, for she knew what was coming. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy talking to Andrew, on most occasions she did very much, it was just … she didn't even know what to think about it, let alone be able to explain it to him when he asked her, which she expected him to do very soon. She pulled her eyes away from the beautiful stars and took a breath before turning to him, wishing more than anything that she could just leave him here, and go back to her room, where she could be alone with her thoughts and try to fix them up for herself. It he hadn't noticed that she was upset before, he would surely be able to tell now and she found herself resenting that, and him, slightly.

It wasn't that something was just "bothering" her … no, it was much more that that, and Andrew wished that she was comfortable with talking to him about it, that she would confide in him like normal. She had said on numerous occasions that his presence in her life made the days easier and more enjoyable for her, especially when he was there when she needed to talk to someone, let her feelings out … well he was here now, wasn't he? Why could she not 'let her feelings out' now, when he could tell that it was gnawing at her insides? Normally, she could pour her heart out to him and she knew that he would listen and not judge her, no matter what she said. So why on earth was she finding it so difficult to tell him what was on her mind?

Because it was about him. It was far more difficult to talk to someone about something that concerns them than it is to talk about someone else, Monica concluded mentally. Trying to figure out what to say to him and how to say it, and trying to think of an excuse _not_ to say anything at all at the same time, was making her headache pound worse than before. She tried to understand why she was hesitant to talk to him, to tell him everything, and the only thing that she could come up with was that she was afraid. Not of him, but of what she knew she should tell him. She wanted it to be easy, and she wanted to be able to just come out with it, but that slight fear was holding her back.

Andrew was waiting for her to talk first, and he knew that she would if he was patient and gave her enough time to gather her thoughts. That's how it always worked, and he, especially now, at this time of the night, was in no hurry and had no desire to rush her. He knew that if he started in on her first, that it would intimidate her and she wouldn't want to talk to him at all. He had played this game enough times to know the rules by heart. He was perfectly willing to sit and wait. He leaned backwards and gently nudged the old swing into motion.

The slight rocking of the swing, and the creaking of the hinges on which it hung brought Monica out of her daze. All of the sudden, she felt a wave of confidence, and she thought she had found a way to ease into the conversation. There was something about the slow, repetitive movements of the swing that soothed her. She took a deep, cleansing breath and decided that it was now or never.

"Andrew?" She asked, not really knowing what the question would be to follow, but she thought that speaking at all was a great start. He turned to look at her, and his lips turned up in a smile. He knew that she would do it eventually.

"Yeah?" He replied, keeping his eyes in steady contact with hers, and he was glad that she didn't look away.

"Have you ever …" she began, not sure how to phrase her question without giving everything away, " um, ever thought about what it would be like to be human? I mean … completely?" Andrew smiled and then averted his eyes. He had thought about it, and she had asked him this question before. He didn't know if she had forgotten his answer, simply forgotten that they'd had the conversation at all, or was just trying to extend the time before she really had to talk, but he answered her like it was the first time anyway.

"Yeah, I have. Almost every day, actually," he said, "there's always something that makes me think about it." Monica nodded in agreement.

"Me too," she said unnecessarily, and then, quite suddenly, she asked, "Do you remember when we first met, all those years ago?" Andrew nodded, his smile turning to a smirk.

"Yes and no," he replied, "the details are a little foggy, but I remember the day in general." He looked at her slyly then and added with a laugh, "and you made it clear that you didn't like me very much. I remember that quite vividly." Her smile, if nothing else, was worth that trip down memory lane.

"But then we were friends after that," she said, the blush that had risen to her cheeks fading, "friends …" Andrew wasn't quite sure what she meant by that last comment, but he chose to ignore it, and say instead,

"Not just plain old friends though … best friends forever, remember?" He grabbed her hand then, and squeezed it, throwing her a smile too.

"Andrew, if we were humans," Monica began, "and we knew each other, do you think we would still be 'best friends forever'?"

For the first time in a long time, for reasons unknown to him, he found himself caught completely off-guard. It wasn't so much the question that did it. The question itself was not so odd; it was a rather normal question. He had just opened his mouth to answer "yes," but closed it abruptly when he realized that if he were to say yes, it would be a lie. He cleared his throat and looked her straight in the eyes and said,

"No."

It was not the answer that she had expected at all, and it wasn't the answer that she'd hoped for. She tried not to show it, but she was hurt, and it was all she could do to keep the tears away. She looked down at her hand and realized that Andrew was still holding it. She looked away from him, but left her fingers entwined with his.

"Hey, I didn't mean –" he began, but she interrupted him, in a voice that bordered on bitter,

"You don't have to say anything," she said, "you don't have to tell me why …" But he ignored her, and said in a voice so soft that it was almost a whisper,

"Mon, I said 'no' and I meant it. If we were humans … no, I don't think we would be friends," he paused and took a breath, and he was slightly nervous, because he was sure that what he was about to say would cross some line, somewhere. "I think we would be … so much more than just friends. I can't imagine it any other way. …"

There it was again, that overwhelming sensation that kept her from drawing a breath of air properly. Her mind felt like jello as she tried to come up with an appropriate response, but she realized that she couldn't possibly say anything back to that. She wanted him to keep talking though, so she asked him another question, her voice faltering slightly,

"H-how do you figure that?" He considered her for a moment, even though he knew the answer already. This was definitely not the conversation that he had been expecting to have tonight, though he knew that this topic, or something similar, was destined to come up at some point or another, and he guessed that now was as good a time as any.

"Well, I guess because I already love you," he said, sensing that he was about to cross another line with his words, "in the only way that I'm allowed. I know that if I were capable of feeling the love that humans do, that I would love you then too." There was a slight pause.

"I never knew you felt that way," Monica said, feeling as if she might cry from the simple honesty that had come from his heart. "But … you're right. We're not allowed to feel any other way. So why-" and she caught herself before she said it, but she knew she had already said the key word, and it didn't matter. Andrew looked at her in such a way that all but forced her to continue her thought. She sighed, mentally cursing herself for letting it slip,

"So why …" she started hesitantly, looking away, "am I having feelings for you that I might have if I loved … if I were _in _love with you?" There. She said it. It was out. And he hadn't laughed at her. She wondered what kind of a response he would come up with to her insane question, and she waited to hear that she was, of course, imagining things, and that she was, most definitely, not _in love_. But he didn't say anything for a few moments, just held her hand a little tighter. So many pieces of the puzzle seemed to suddenly fall into place.

"I …" Andrew began, at a loss for words for the first time that night, "I don't really have an answer I guess … only that I think I know what you mean. I never would have thought that it was possible, but if both of us …" and he trailed off, unable to form the words in his mind. He had been afraid to tell her the very thing that she had just confessed to him, and he was so impressed with her courage that he felt like he had to say something. He squeezed her hand gently to get her to look at him and said gently,

"That took guts, Princess … what you said." She was looking at him, but her eyes were glazed over and non-seeing.

"No, it's just … true," she said, shaking her head, still trying to comprehend what he had just said. He had definitely just said 'both of us' … which meant that he was feeling the same way, and also didn't understand how, why or … how. "But we can't …" she said, her eyes coming into focus to rest on him, "w-we … we're n-not allowed … are we?" He shrugged his shoulders in response, never having felt so unsure of anything in his life.

Were they really not allowed? Nobody had ever said that it was not allowed, it was just … an unspoken rule. Or was it? Why had no one questioned it before? And why all the sudden were they questioning?

That thought alone was enough to send Andrew's mind reeling, but all of them combined was almost overwhelming, and he thought that his head might explode from his need to be alone with his thoughts, to process them properly. He had the feeling that the conversation had gone as far it was going to go tonight anyway.

He stood from the swing and extended a hand to Monica, who accepted it and stood up herself. They didn't speak as they stepped back inside, and they were both quiet until they reached her closed bedroom door. When she turned to face him, there were tears shining in her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "Thank you …"

"For what?"

"For … everything. For being you and … for making me tell you." She said, her voice thick with emotion, and he was already shaking his head.

"I didn't make you … I let you. And I'm so glad I did, you have no idea." He pushed on her door and it opened with a low creak, just wide enough for her to slip through. "Goodnight, Princess …"

He pulled her close and kissed her forehead lightly, before turning towards his own room. Monica stood at her door and watched him walk, confused beyond belief, and she hoped that now she would be able to sleep, and be able to deal with all that was on her mind. She hesitated one more second before closing her door, and was glad that she did, for if she had shut it one instant earlier, she would have missed the whispered 'I love you' floating down the hall from Andrew's room.

* * *

Oh I'm having good fun, and sleepless nights with this! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I do writing it!

Love, A


	4. Chapter 4

NOTE: I know it has been close to _forever_ since I updated last, but I hope you will forgive me and continue to leave me nice comments! I've been so extremely busy since starting at university, I haven't hardly any time to breathe, let alone write. So, with that said, if it happens to be another long stretch of time before I am able to update again, PLEASE know that it's not because I don't care, or that I've forgotten! This story (and it's completion) mean the WORLD to me, and I will not let it die, I swear!

Love, A

* * *

The next day, Thanksgiving, dawned bright and much too early for a certain auburn haired angel. Monica had slept fitfully, tossing and turning in her bed, unable to really get to sleep. She had finally drifted off into a light slumber just as the sun was rising, but was snatched out of it when Tess poked her head in,

"Good morning, and happy Thanksgiving, Angel Girl," she said brightly, drawing a misunderstood groan from Monica, who was usually a morning person and full of energy early in the day. Tess frowned and added before turning to leave, "You better leave that attitude in this room when you come downstairs, Miss Wings … today is not the day."

"Tess," she protested, "I don't mean to be rude, it's just that I'm so t-t-tired …" She stifled a huge yawn, "and if you don't need me to help, I'd rather just stay in bed …"

Monica covered her face with her bedcovers and squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to shield herself from the world. Surprisingly, she wasn't _that_ tired … she figured that Andrew was probably awake and downstairs already, and she was afraid that it would be awkward between them after what was said last night, and she didn't want Tess picking up on the tension. Unfortunately, she didn't have a choice in the matter.

"You get your Angel rear out of bed, Miss Wings … it's Thanksgiving and we are _all_ spending the day together! Andrew's already downstairs …" Her tone was firm, but not angry … just like a mother with a stubborn teenager. With that, Tess exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

With another groan, Monica shoved the covers aside and stood up reluctantly. Andrew _was_ already downstairs, just like she knew he would be. But shouldn't she be glad, and excited to see him? _Yes_, she thought, as she shuffled to her bathroom. So why was she dreading going downstairs now? She didn't really want to admit it, even to herself in the mirror, as she stood there combing her hair, but she really was feeling something for Andrew unlike anything she'd felt before, and it really was making her nervous. Could it be possible that what her mind had been dwelling on for the better part of the last two days was actually happening?

"No …" she said to her reflection, but the way it came out, even she didn't believe herself. She frowned and studied the way her messy hair fell over her left eye like a curtain, and she was reminded of her book again, how the girl's hair fell in her face in the exact same manner. She tried to fix it nicely, but going to bed with it wet and not sleeping well had turned her normally smooth mane into a pile of messy curls, twisting and waving every which way. She sighed and frowned, before just tying it up in a ponytail, not willing to spend anymore time on the disaster. It would just have to do.

She found that, for only the second time in her existence, she was worried about the way she looked and what she should wear, and she couldn't begin to imagine what caused the sudden change in behavior, unless it was that she wanted to look good for Andrew. The thought made a blush rise to her cheeks, and she knew it was true. With that in mind, she walked to her closet, pulled the doors open and stared at all her clothes, trying to figure out which was the best outfit for the occasion. She pulled out shirts, sweaters, jackets … she hated everything that she saw and clothes were soon scattered around her room and there was nothing left hanging in the closet. She turned away from the closet and finally decided that pajamas would do well for now, and she would decide what to wear later, when she knew the details of the rest of the day. With that in mind, she dragged her rumpled self from her room and down the stairs towards the kitchen, where she imagined Tess had prepared something for breakfast.

"Well, look who's decided to join us …" the comment was made light-heartedly, and a grin pulled at the corners of her mouth as she looked into his face, getting used to the way her heart jumped out of her chest when she did so. She noticed immediately that he too had opted to stay in pajamas for the time being, and just that little thing put her mind at ease, at least for now. She looked around and saw that the table in the kitchen was set for breakfast, and there was an assortment of morning foods on the stove ready to be eaten. Tess entered then and greeted Monica brightly, motioning her over to help with drinks for the meal.

She didn't need direction; she knew that Andrew liked orange juice with his morning meal, and that Tess would drink a cup of coffee, black, but just one. Tess was busy filling plates as Monica set mugs of coffee and a glass of juice on the table, and took her seat across from Andrew. She smiled at him shyly, but still hadn't opened her mouth to speak, for she didn't quite trust what she might say to him in front of Tess. She didn't want to accidentally say something that would make Tess question them and expect answers that they were not ready to give, or even understand for themselves. Andrew didn't say anything more to her either, for precisely the same reason.

As Tess came back with full plates for her and Andrew, Monica could sense that she was picking up on the slight tension between them, and knew it was only a matter of seconds before she said something, for that was just Tess's way.

"Angel Girl, you're awfully quiet this morning … everything ok?" Tess asked, not noticing Monica's eyes widen an infinitesimal amount, still locked on Andrew. He smiled only big enough for her to see, and as she answered her supervisor with a simple 'yes,' she wasn't sure if it was true. Everything was _ok_. So it wasn't really a lie. She hoped.

"Ok, well … Andrew would you ask the blessing, please?" He nodded, took Tess's hand, reached across the table for Monica's and started praying, his voice faltering only slightly as the shock from her touch ran from his hand to his shoulder. He finished the blessing, and as the chorus of 'amens' went around the table, Monica stared at her extremely full plate of food and wondered how she was going to eat any of it now.

Monica seemed so distant from Andrew and Tess as the three made small talk throughout the meal, Andrew glancing at her every so often to see that her face was blank and her eyes weren't really in focus. She had hardly eaten, and the little bit that she had seemed to be forced in an attempt to not hurt Tess's feelings. Andrew wondered if the conversation that they had had the previous night was a mistake, or if he had said something that scared her unintentionally. He wanted to be alone with her so that they could talk more, but he knew that, with it being Thanksgiving and all, Tess would expect the three of them to be together all day. It would hardly be fair for them to leave Tess by herself for the second day in a row anyway, let alone on a holiday that was meant for families. He figured that they would just have to wait until later, when they could be alone, and he hoped that Tess wouldn't pick up on the tension building between them. His thoughts were interrupted when Tess, thankfully, broke the silence.

"It's getting much colder since yesterday. The storm last night must have brought a cold front with it," she said, "I've heard that it might snow tonight." At the mention of snow, Monica's eyes seemed to brighten a little. As beautifully colorful as the other seasons were, Monica's favorite had always been winter. The thought of winter arriving a little sooner than expected brought her spirits up slightly. She shivered at the thought of the colder weather, but it was more out of excitement than actual chills.

Monica looked down at her plate and thought, if nothing else, she could at least manage to eat the toast. After five minutes or so, after everyone was finished eating (with the exception of Monica), Tess suggested that everyone go to get ready for the day while she put the finishing touches on the dinner for later that afternoon. Gratefully,

Monica brought her nearly full plate to the kitchen and looked at Tess apologetically,

"I'm sorry, I … just wasn't very hungry," she said meekly, praying that Tess wouldn't ask her to explain why. Thankfully, she didn't, but suggested instead,

"That's alright, baby. Why don't you put on something warm and go pick some more flowers for the table? That will give you something to do while I finish up in the kitchen," Tess said, hoping that doing something productive would get Monica's mind off of whatever was troubling her. Monica was usually the chatty one, especially around the holidays, so the fact that she had said less than ten words all morning raised a red flag in Tess's mind. Monica nodded her thanks, and left the room without speaking, leaving Andrew alone with Tess in the kitchen.

Andrew shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and prayed that Tess wouldn't ask him what was going on. Unfortunately, his request went unanswered.

"Angel Boy … you know what's going on, don't you?" Tess asked pointedly, with her best stern look. Andrew sighed, and thought for a moment that he just might get up and walk away as Monica had done. He couldn't bring himself to lie and say that he didn't know anything, but he couldn't betray what they had talked about the night before either. He wasn't altogether sure whether or not the subject matter of his and Monica's talk was a break of an unspoken rule, but nonetheless, he didn't think it was a good idea to tell Tess about it. He took a breath and hoped that Tess wouldn't be hurt by his words,

"I know … but I can't tell you. It's not my place to tell, and honestly, I wouldn't even know how to tell you if it were," he said, looking away, wishing she would get the hint and drop it. _And it's not just her … _he thought to himself.

Tess sighed, slightly irritated. It wasn't very often that this happened, and when it did, she knew that she wasn't going to get anything else out of Andrew by pestering him for answers. The best thing to do was to let it go. She knew that there must be a reason that Monica didn't want her to know whatever was on her mind, and she had learned to respect that over the years. Still, it was difficult to accept the fact that her "baby" was upset and she wasn't permitted to help, and wouldn't be until Monica chose to tell her for herself, if that even happened at all.

"I understand, Andrew. I know that you would never do anything to betray her trust, or anyone's for that matter. She counts on you an awful lot for that …" Tess said quietly, wishing secretly that their roles were reversed and it was her that Monica trusted above all others. Monica and Andrew's relationship never ceased to amaze her, and the way it continued to grow. It seemed, to her anyway, like just yesterday she was introducing the two of them to each other. Monica's apparent agitation towards him at first seemed to melt away within days, hours even, and they were close friends from then on. She used the term 'close' subjectively however, as she wasn't quite sure where on the scale of closeness their friendship really ranked. Pushing that thought from her mind, as she still had much cooking to do before dinner, she finished,

"I'm glad that she can trust you so explicitly. That's something that not a lot of people, human or angel, can say that they share with another person. That's a very special thing."

Andrew nodded, and his stomach flipped uncomfortably at her words. He knew that she was trying to be kind, but also that she was hurt, even if she wouldn't admit it forwardly. But, he could read between the lines and figure out that she was voicing what she wished that she shared with Monica, and maybe even him to some degree. It wasn't like he had gone out of his way to step in front of Tess and become that person; it had just happened that way naturally, and he felt slightly guilty about it, even though he wouldn't trade it for the world, especially now.

"Well, thank you for understanding. I bet it has to be hard sometimes, not knowing. But I promise that, if she was in any danger or something was seriously wrong or anything like that, I would tell you," he said. "We … just have some things to work out, is all …"

And he left her to her cooking at that. He couldn't justify saying anything else about it, without compromising Monica's trust, as Tess had so eloquently stated. He hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs. His plan was to get dressed and offer to go flower-picking with Monica, which would give them the perfect opportunity to have alone time to talk.

But as he opened her door slightly, and poked his head in, and saw that she had already gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey everyone! Sorry about the long wait again, I have had some issues to deal with, and school is giving me a rather difficult time as always. I know this chapter is quite short, but I hope you enjoy it none-the-less. Also, because of the issues that I mentioned above, I did not type or load this chapter. A friend typed it up and posted for me, and God knows my handwriting is awful, so forgive any mistakes that she might have made!

As some of you may know already, I am absolutely obsessed with music, and I can usually find a song to relate to almost any situation. The idea for this particular story came from a song from the movie 'Anna and the King.' It is called "How Can I Not Love You?" and it is sung by Joy Enriquez. SO, if you would like to get a feel for the heart of this story before it's written for you here, I suggest listening to that song. Also, I've used elements from Daniel Bedingfield's "If You're Not the One" as well, so that's also a good one to listen to.

So I hope you enjoy the songs, but most importantly, CHAPTER FIVE!

Love, A

* * *

It was definitely getting colder. Every second that passed, the temperature seemed to drop a degree or two. Monica pulled the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands as a shiver ran up her spine, and she wished that she had taken the time to grab a jacket, or at least some gloves. The wind had started to pick up too, and she could feel the bitter coldness nipping at her nose and cheeks like an annoying pest. The air smelled like snow though; the mixture of burning fireplaces, ice, and the slight burning sensation inside her nose made her smile, and she wished that the sky _would_ open up and coat the earth with the fluffy white stuff. The first snowfall of winter would definitely help to raise her spirits. Not that they really needed raising. She just needed something to distract her, so that she could get through the day without upsetting Tess anymore.

It had to have been at least 20 minutes since she had left the cabin, and she was slightly surprised that Andrew had not found her yet. She knew that she didn't have to wait for him, that he would come and find her as soon as he could (respectively) escape from Tess's questioning presence. He always did.

Soon, she came to a bench on the side of the path, nestled up against a tree trunk. She sat on it to wait, and not a second later, there he was, walking up the path towards where she sat. She smiled at him shyly as he took a seat next to her and cleared his throat.

"Why didn't you wait for me? I would've come with you …," he said softly, turning to look in her eyes. The deep pools of green gazing at her were paralyzing for a millisecond. She was still trying to get used to that feeling, but she found herself fighting it at the same time.

"I … I'm sorry, I just had to get out right then. I know that we aren't lying to Tess, but not telling feels like a lie to me, and I had to get away before I said something …" she said timidly, understanding nothing. Andrew also looked troubled and nodded in agreement.

"I know what you mean. It was really hard to sit there and pretend that nothing was wrong when you walked out like you did," he said, and realizing the way that statement sounded aloud, he quickly corrected himself, "I mean … I understood why, but she didn't of course, and tried to get it out of me. That's why it took me a little while to get out here. I had to dodge every other question she asked, and you know that's not an easy thing with her."

Monica nodded and looked away. Andrew was a little worried that she wasn't talking much, but at the same time, he knew that she was fighting a battle against these new feelings same as he was. He was certain now that these mounting feelings were for her in a way that he'd never felt before, but whether it was "love" or not, he didn't know. He didn't want to jump to that conclusion immediately, but considering what he had been feeling before, and what he felt now … he didn't think it could be anything else. In the beginning, he had tried to fight these feelings away but since he had surrendered, they were racing forward at an alarming speed. And, on top of everything else, right in that moment, he had the overwhelming desire to take her face in his hands and –

"Andrew … look, I think it's starting to snow …" her voice was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to yank him from his thoughts. He chose not to look at her, afraid that the blush rising to his cheeks from what he had been thinking a moment before would show, and she would ask about it. He grinned, slightly surprised that he had thought of such a thing, but remembered in the next moment that it wasn't the first time. He followed her gaze towards the sky, and saw that it was indeed beginning to snow. The flakes were just small flurries now, but he knew it would turn into more, especially if the temperature continued to drop through the night. He hoped, more for Monica's sake than anything, that they would wake tomorrow to a blanket of fresh snow. He knew that would help to bring her into the spirit of the holidays if nothing else would.

"You're right," he said, continuing to watch the tiny snowflakes dance around in the sky on their decent to the earth. Monica turned to look at him and furrowed her eyebrows together.

"Do you think we should head back? It's getting really cold, your face is red …" she said, always the observant one. He shook his head and smiled,

"No, I'm fine to stay out if you are … you know, maybe we should go ahead and pick some flowers. If it gets too cold, we won't want to stay out and if we wait … well, flowers don't usually survive in snow. This might be our only chance." She nodded her agreement and stood up, and waited for him to do the same.

Soon, they were on their way back home with enough flowers for three centerpieces, Andrew having picked an armful as well. They had picked every flower that was worth having, and by now the temperature was really starting to get to them both. The snow was falling harder now, huge, fluffy flakes that left wet spots where they landed, and it was starting to stick to the ground. Monica looked around and smiled, loving the feeling of contentment that the snow and being with Andrew brought to her. Just walking with him, even in complete silence, soothed her spirit like nothing else could. She hoped that, as they neared the cabin again, the good feeling would remain at least long enough for her to get through Thanksgiving dinner in a cheerful manner.

They came in through the back door, and the wonderful aromas that greeted them were almost intoxicating. If there was one other thing besides being a supervisor that Tess was blessed with, it was cooking. Andrew laid his bundle of flowers in a basket that Tess had left out, and took Monica's from her to add to the vase already on the table. She stood silently, watching him rearranging the flowers and had to bite her lip to keep the tears that were welling up in her eyes from falling down her cheeks. When Andrew turned from the table a moment later and saw her sudden change in emotion, his own eyes softened and he asked softly,

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" She lost the battle against her tears as he spoke, the tenderness of his words reaching right to her heart. A lone tear fell from her eye, but before it even had the chance to trickle half-way down her cheek, Andrew wiped it away gently with his thumb. He placed his palm against her cheek delicately as her eyelids slid shut and he looked at her searchingly, wishing he could feel what was in her heart as easily as if she told him aloud. He let his hand linger for another moment as she regained her composure and opened her eyes to look at him. When she did, she couldn't help but notice how warm his hand was, or how incredibly close his face was to hers. It stole her breath for a moment, and she had the sudden thought that it would be extremely nice if he were to lean in and ki-

"Hey …" Andrew whispered, his voice faltering slightly, for he too had been (again) thinking exactly what she had been thinking at the same moment that he interrupted her thoughts, much like she had done to _him_ earlier. "I think we should probably go and check on Tess and dinner … don't you think?"

_No,_she wanted to say, _let's stay right here. _But she couldn't manage to form the words. "Y-yes we should go check on … on Tess … definitely …"

She stepped back from him then, averting her eyes from his still searching gaze and almost made it to the swinging kitchen door before he stopped her.

"Wait," Andrew said, "you never said what was wrong … you were crying …" She nodded and shook her head,

"It's nothing, really... I was just thinking about you and all the things you do, and how incredibly lucky I am to have you … and you know me, sometimes I get a wee bit emotional." It was simple and honest, and Andrew couldn't say or do anything but stare at her beautiful face and the tears shining in her eyes and wonder what he had ever done to deserve such an incredible being in his life. He closed the distance between them in two large strides and had her in his arms before she even knew that he had moved.

"No, no …" he whispered softly into her ear, his fingers running through her auburn hair, "You can't possibly imagine how much having you in my life has meant to me all these years, Princess … it's me … _I'm_ the lucky one." She nodded her head against his chest, listening to his heart beating in steady rhythm with her own, something about the sound driving all the anxiety from her body and mind, and she felt that with him by her side, she would never want for another thing ever. Besides being an angel and being in the Father's presence, Andrew's friendship meant more to her than anything in the world.

"Well, let's not argue about who's the luckiest and just say we both are," she said with a giggle, as she pulled away from his embrace, "besides, you know eventually you would let me win."

Andrew smiled and shrugged, "Hey, I don't know about that. Maybe … but you'd definitely have to fight me for it." He tucked a strand of her long hair behind her ear and when they heard Tess call for them a moment later, he placed a light kiss on her forehead and said,

"Ok, Princess … dinner awaits us …"

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Sorry, I know it's short! I'll have more ASAP!


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hey guys! Less of a wait this time, how 'bout that?! I've been entirely too bored over the past couple of weeks and got in some good writing time, which I'm sure you are happy to hear! ;)**_

_**Anyway, I would just like to say that this chapter is for Deyse! Sorry I didn't get it posted before you had to go to sleep last night! Hopefully you'll forgive me after reading it though! To my Sissy, Kim, and all my other faithful readers – get EXCITED 'cause this is a good one!!**_

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The food that Tess had prepared for Thanksgiving dinner was fabulous, from the amazing fried turkey, to the stuffing, potatoes, and exquisite pumpkin pie. Monica couldn't recall ever being as stuffed in her entire existence, but it was quite a good feeling. She couldn't help but think that the next order of business was a nap, curled up by the fire. She yawned loudly, which drew an irritated look from Tess, and a grin from Andrew, who caught the contagion and yawned quite loudly himself.

"Well, I'm glad to know that my cooking makes you both sleepy. That's a good sign," Tess said with a smile and a shake of her head. Tess was pleased to see that Monica's earlier upset had seemed to resolve itself before dinner, for she had been her usual chatty self throughout the meal. Although, she recalled, if anyone was good at concealing problems, it was Monica. She hoped for her sake though that whatever it was _had_ been resolved.

"Thank you, Tess. It was really wonderful, the best turkey I've ever had," Monica said cheerfully, "and that pie … wonderful isn't good enough of a word to describe it." She patted her stomach and groaned jokingly, wondering how she was going to move at all. Andrew agreed with her,

"I think I side with Monica on this one," he said with a nod, "the best ever." Tess looked pleased with both his and Monica's words of thanks and began to think to herself how nice a nap would be indeed.

"I'm happy that you enjoyed it. Now, I think you both need a nap. Something tells me that neither one of you got much sleep last night. So why don't you …" but she trailed off suddenly, and looked upwards toward the ceiling. A moment later, she returned her gaze to the two of them at the opposite end of the table and said,

"I'm being called away. I have to leave now." Monica started protesting immediately,

"Tess, no …" she said stubbornly, "none of us are supposed to get called, it's Thanksgiving, He promised …" But Tess shook her head,

"Angel Girl, the world doesn't stop just because it's a holiday. Humans still get themselves into trouble, and God knows accidents happen and problems arise just like any other day. I don't mind going. The Father says I won't be gone long, maybe just a few days. And I'll be close, just down the mountain in the city," she said humbly, not upset in the least for a chance at something constructive to do. All this lying around wasn't Tess's cup of tea. As she stood up to leave, she gave them some instructions,

"If you wouldn't mind, the kitchen needs to be straightened and the dishes need to be done. Oh yes, and depending on how long I'm gone, there's a box of Christmas ornaments in the front closet. Why don't you two find a tree, and decorate it? That would give _you_ something to do while I'm gone," she said, hinting at the fact that they had done little else but lay around in the week that they had been on vacation. They both agreed to both tasks immediately, and with a wave, Tess disappeared from the dining room before their eyes. Monica looked at Andrew, slightly bewildered by how fast that Tess's departure had occurred, when only moments before they had been enjoying a delicious meal.

Andrew leaned back from his chair, and as sad as it was that they _all_couldn't be together on Thanksgiving, he couldn't help but think that he and Monica could use this time to explore what was going on better without being under Tess's watchful eye. He figured that Monica would be able to relax a little bit and let go of some of the anxiety that had been building up in her over the course of the last two days. Andrew found himself rather looking forward to spending the next two days or so alone with her.

"I guess we should get the dishes done and out of the way," Monica suggested, turning up her nose slightly at the thought of the mountain of dishes waiting for them in the kitchen. "And what else was Tess saying … something about a tree?"

"Yeah, she said we should find a tree and decorate it with ornaments and lights and stuff. I think she said that there's already a box of those things in the front closest, but that we would have to find a tree for ourselves. We could find one … go traipsing through the woods, locate a perfect one, and find a way to cut it down and get it back here … or we could buy one …" he said, thinking of all the work either one of those options would entail.

"OR," Monica said with her eyes bright and widened like a child's, "we could just ask for one. Don't you think that would be _much_ easier?" She grinned wide and ran from the room through the swinging kitchen door, only to stick her head back through a moment later, "Come see …" she said, in a voice that Andrew thought was slightly seductive, although he knew she probably didn't mean it that way. Sure enough, there in the corner of the family room, right by the fireplace, stood a magnificent pine ready to be decorated. Andrew shook his head and threw a smile in her direction,

"That's amazing. Although … I was sorta looking forward to a walk in the snow with you," he said, his green eyes twinkling, "but since we already have a tree now…"

"We could still go for a walk," she said quickly, looking out the window at the afternoon sun sitting low in the sky, "but let's wait until it's dark. I love the way snow sparkles in the moonlight." Andrew smiled again, loving her use of words. It was almost poetic.

"Well, I don't think waiting for the sun to set will be much of a problem. We still have the kitchen to clean, and all those dishes to do. We should probably get started anyway." Monica just smiled again, and Andrew found that slightly strange. Usually, she wasn't so excited to do housework. He nodded back towards the swinging door, and as they arrived in the kitchen, Andrew found himself smiling yet again, and understanding Monica's excitement.

"How many favors did you ask for, Princess?" He said, looking around at the spotless kitchen. The table had been cleared, the food put away, and there wasn't a dirty dish in sight. Monica grinned mischievously, her maple colored eyes glinting in the sunlight that was pouring through the window.

"Three," she said casually, turning away from him and walking to the counter to turn the coffee brewer on. Andrew thought for a moment, about the tree and the dishes. That was two …

"Ok so, what's three?" He asked. She turned back around, shook her head and threw a wink in his direction.

"Three is a surprise," Monica said, her eyes glittering in the light again. She got a mug down from the cabinet above her head and poured some coffee, taking her time to prepare it just the way she liked, with three creams and one sugar. She offered a cup to Andrew, but he shook his head and thanked her anyway, not that she was surprised with his response. She tried to imagine disliking coffee as he did, but she just could not wrap her mind around the thought.

Andrew cleared his throat then and suggested that they get started on the tree. She agreed and pointed out that by the time they were finished decorating, it would be dark and they could go for their moonlit stroll in the snow. The thought of their walk in the frozen forest kept a smile on Monica's face the entire evening as they decorated the tree. They had every possible ornament to decorate with, even multi-colored lights and strings of popcorn.

Two hours later, they both flopped on the floor exhausted, but thoroughly satisfied with their decorating job. They had spent the time laughing and talking as they hung ornaments on the tree's branches, and Andrew was so very glad to see that Monica's eyes were sparkling and her smile was bigger than it had been in days. He glanced out the window, noticed the inky blackness in the sky, and smiled, hoping that she wasn't too tired now to go on a walk.

"It's dark, Princess … you're not too tired to go out are you?" He asked, hoping that she still wanted to go, as he had been looking forward to it as well. She looked at him as if he was crazy and replied,

"Of course not! I would never pass up a chance to go for a walk with you, with or without snow," she said with a grin, giggling at the slight blush coloring his cheeks at her words. "Come on, let's go now …" she said, standing up and extending her hand to help pull him up off the floor too.

They spent the next few minutes in silence, bundling up well against the cold, with heavy coats and gloves. As soon as they were ready, they headed out the back door. The clouds had rolled away from one patch of the sky, and a few stars could be seen twinkling in the night sky. The scenery was breathtaking with the soft blanket of snow, and Monica's breath was literally taken as she took in the beauty of God's creation. There was something to be said about snow anytime, but in the moonlight it was … and the word came to Monica as a thought, but she accidentally whispered it out loud,

"Magical …" And as she looked around again, she decided that the little forest on the edge of the mountain, with it's tall trees and perfect blanket of untouched snow really was a magical place.

Andrew, who had been just as mesmerized by the beautiful scene before them, didn't hear Monica, although he had been thinking quite the same thing. He slipped his gloved hand into hers easily, not hardly noticing the warm tingly shock that spread through his body at the contact. It was normal now, after all. They started walking down the path then, stepping gingerly to not disrupt the snow too much with their footprints. The scenery around them was so beautiful that they felt privileged to just be in it, and they didn't want to do too much harm by walking through it haphazardly.

They walked in silence for a little while, which suited Monica perfectly. It gave her time to think, and while they walked, she decided it was time to cash in on favor number three. As soon as she thought it, the snow, which had stopped falling hours ago, began to fall to the earth again in big fluffy flakes. It had been beautiful before of course, but now their winter wonderland was complete. There was no denying the magic in the air now.

Andrew sighed contentedly, and somehow he knew that Monica was responsible for the falling snow. He squeezed her hand tighter and asked softly, with a sweet smile pulling at the corner of his lips,

"Three?" She nodded and smiled, and all of the sudden, he stopped walking and pulled her into his arms unexpectedly for the second time that day. He didn't say anything, just held her tight. He knew exactly what was happening, and he was through denying the feelings that wanted to explode from his heart. Everything that he had been trying to hold back for the last few days suddenly came rushing to the surface in an almost overwhelming blur.

With the stillness in the air and the snow falling all around, it set the perfect scene. He pulled away just enough to look into her face. In that moment, he wanted to kiss her more than anything that he had ever wanted before. He didn't want to upset or scare her though, so for a moment he just looked into her eyes and tried to come up with something to say, but nothing he thought sounded right, so he said nothing.

He was about to just let go of her and suggest that they continue walking, but a delicate flake of snow landed on Monica's eyelash. She turned her face away from his slightly and blinked it off, her nose wrinkling up. Andrew noticed that her cheek was now accessible with her face turned away, and decided to settle with kissing it instead, as he often did. As he leaned in to kiss her though, she turned her face back.

Monica sucked in a breath of air. The kiss was technically on her cheek, but it was close enough to her lips that she could feel the brush against them. She lowered her head a little and shut her eyes, her mind rushing so much that she was almost dizzy. A million things were going on inside her brain, and she wondered if he had meant really to kiss her, and he just missed. She suddenly hoped that that was the case, but she knew that as she lifted her head and kissed him, that it would be too late for hoping anyway.

Time seemed to stop, and it felt like everything was happening in slow motion. As soon as the kiss ended, Monica looked into Andrew's startled eyes searchingly, hoping that she didn't just make a terrible mistake. The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly in a smile and she asked,

"Is that what you meant to do?"

Andrew, who couldn't quite believe what just happened, didn't answer right away, for he was at a complete loss for words. He didn't think anything he said would be a good enough response.

"Uh, I … well, yes and no …" he said, stuttering a little from the shock, "At first, I meant to … well, you know it doesn't really matter what I meant because … I liked that much better anyway." He forced himself to breathe normally, and returned her smile. Relief flooded through Monica like a river, and she let out a huge sigh, finally feeling like she understood a thing or two.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, neither one really knowing what to say to the other. After a few minutes, Andrew's smile turned into a laugh,

"I'm glad you had the guts to do that, Princess," he said, pulling her close and hugging her tight again. "You want to go back yet?"

She nodded her head against his chest and yawned. She was getting sleepy, and thought that going back and curling up by the fire was the perfect idea. They headed home after a few more minutes in the silent woods, and when they got there, the first thing Andrew did was light a fire in the big stone fireplace. After they shed their coats and boots, they sat together on the sofa laughing and taking a trip down memory lane of past holiday seasons.

As the fire died down to a faint glow, Andrew thought it was best to call it a night. They both had had a long and somewhat emotional day, and were exhausted to say the least. Andrew rose from the sofa and extinguished the remains of the fire before they both headed up the stairs. As they reached Monica's bedroom door, Andrew took her face in his hands and kissed her goodnight, hoping that when he woke tomorrow, he wouldn't find this all to be a dream.

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_**Now please, exhale.**_

_**Love,**_

_**A**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Hey everyone! I hope this chapter finds you all doing well, and having a lovely holiday season! **_

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Early the next morning, the sun had yet to rise and the morning sky was still black as night when Monica was pulled from the most incredible dream of Christmas trees and snowy forests, and it was a moment before she was fully awake. She lay in her bed replaying the dream through her mind, trying to etch the memories into her brain before she forgot them forever. She thought of the beautiful forest, the sparkling snow, and the look in Andrew's eyes before he had leaned in and kissed her …

And then she remembered. Memories from the previous night came flooding back to her so fast that she had a hard time processing them all. The tree decorating and the walk in the snow … that had happened, she was certain. But the kiss … was it possible that it didn't happen at all and she had only dreamt it? She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath, hoping with all of her heart that the magical moment between her and Andrew hadn't just happened in her dreams.

She lay in bed a while longer, until the sky glowed a hazy light blue at the horizon, and she had a sudden urge to see the sunrise. She climbed out of her warm bed and, with her pajamas still on, slipped into an oversized jacket that she found hanging in her closet. She opened her door quietly and headed towards the stairs, walking quietly past Andrew's room so as not to wake him. As she arrived at the back door of the cabin, she slipped her stocking feet into the snow boots that she had worn on the previous nights' walk, and opened the door. It was still freezing, but the air was remarkably still. As she rounded the corner towards the wooden swing, she was surprised to see that it was already occupied. Andrew sat swinging the swing just slightly, with a heavy quilt around his shoulders and a mug of hot chocolate in his hands. She took a few steps closer, and he looked up and met her gaze with his piercing green eyes.

He smiled a greeting and motioned for her to join him on the swing. She slid in next to him and he adjusted the blanket to cover her as well, and then he asked, "Did you sleep well, Princess?" She nodded her head and then switched her gaze from the snowy scenery before her to look at him, and she added with a grin,

"I had the most wonderful dream." She waited for him to ask her to tell him about it, and when he did, she continued, "Well, we went for a walk in the woods and everything around us was still and quiet. We just walked for a long time, until it started to snow. And then … you kissed me. Well, actually … you missed, so I kissed _you_." She giggled to herself and looked away, missing the twinkle and laughter in Andrew's eyes. The corners of his mouth turned up in a grin and he said,

"Well … that does sound like a wonderful dream," he said softly, "Only, I seem to have those memories too …" Monica turned back to face him, her own eyes sparkling. "So," he continued, "either we both had the exact same dream … or it wasn't a dream at all."

"I was hoping you would say that," Monica whispered, her eyes welling up with tears unintentionally, her very heart breathing a sigh of relief. She still found it hard to believe that all of this was really happening. Not just that she seemed to be falling in love with her best friend, and he with her, but that it had happened with such speed and so suddenly. Andrew noticed the unshed tears glistening in her eyes, and he reached for her hand, squeezing it gently and mentally willing her to tell him what was on her mind. She looked at him and smiled a shy little smile before taking a breath.

"I understand what's happening," she said softly, "and I know that it isn't necessary for me to tell you what's in my heart, because you already know … but I feel like I need to tell you anyway." She paused for a moment, trying to find the right words to say and in her moment of silence, she blinked and a single tear fell from her eye. As Andrew was so very good at doing, he swiped it away quickly, never letting go of her hand, and never averting his eyes from hers.

"I don't know how it's possible," she continued, "and I don't know why it's happening, but I can't fight it anymore. It's too strong, and I'm loosing. Andrew, I've said the words 'I love you' to you so many times that I couldn't even begin to count them … and I've always meant them with all of my heart, in the only way that I knew. But I feel that if I were to say them to you now, they would mean something extraordinarily different, and that amazes me and terrifies me at the same time. I want to say it, but …"

As she had been pouring her heart out, Andrew had been listening, his own heart speeding up and his throat constricting rather tightly with emotion. Everything she had said was so simple and so honest that it made his heart ache. He too found that his emotions were becoming far too strong to fight off.

"Monica … I _love_ you," he said softly, his voice catching on the lump in his throat, "Don't be afraid to let go and let yourself feel it …" He let go of her hand then only to cup her face in his hands and lower his lips to hers in a soft, slow kiss. Monica finally let the tears that she'd been trying to hold in fall down her cheeks freely and Andrew could feel the wetness on the palms of his hands, and taste the tears as they fell to the corners of her lips. The tenderness with which Andrew kissed her gave her no choice but to relinquish whatever restraints she was holding against her heart and abandon herself to what she was feeling.

"Just trust me and let go," he repeated, as he pulled away from the kiss, though he left his hands resting gently on the sides of her face. She nodded.

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be afraid of this …" she said, apologizing unnecessarily, "and I want more than anything to trust you and let go, but … something tells me that as soon as I do …" and she trailed off, not knowing exactly how to voice her fear, but it didn't matter. Andrew could feel the same anxiety in his own heart, and knew exactly what she was trying to say.

"I know that you're nervous, and honestly, so am I," he said serenely, "about the rules … and whether or not this can even happen … I understand, ok? But at the moment, I'm trying really hard not to worry about any of that, and just let myself fall."

No more words were necessary between them, as Monica snuggled closer to him on the swing, resting her head delicately against his chest. The sun had already broken the horizon and was rising slowly, flooding the mountainside with the most brilliant color. She closed her eyes against the blazing light, delighting in the warmth that the rays cast upon her, even though the air was still so chilly. With the sun on her face and Andrew's fingers dancing lazily through her long auburn locks, it wasn't long before she felt herself slipping from consciousness into a warm and peaceful slumber.

It seemed as if only minutes had passed when Monica stirred from her nap, when it fact, it had been several hours. She could feel Andrew's chest rising and falling steadily with breath beneath her head, and she shifted her weight slightly to look into his face. He was already gazing at her, a sweet smile playing on his lips. She smiled back and told him,

"I didn't really mean to fall asleep. You could have woken me up, ya know …" But Andrew shook his head in disagreement.

"What, and lost the chance to hold you for two hours with no arguments or interruptions? I don't think so …" He said tenderly, running a hand through her hair again, "Having you in my arms is not something I generally take for granted. I enjoyed every minute, Princess …"

Monica found herself getting emotional from his words yet again, but she managed this time to contain herself. She too was quite happy to stay in his embrace for as long as he would allow. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve you …" she murmured softly, reaching for his hand and threading her fingers through his, a warm and tingly buzz shooting through her body from the contact.

"I've wondered that about you every day since the first," Andrew replied, chuckling lightly. "After years and years of wondering, I finally gave up and decided that you were a gift, and I never deserved you anyway, so I needed to stop worrying about it …"

Every word, every small gesture touched Monica's heart in more ways than she ever could have imagined possible before now. As hard as it was to "let go" and trust the new and somewhat alarming feelings creeping into her heart, she found that he was making it absolutely impossible for her to do anything but. She vowed to herself then and there that she would make a concentrated effort to set aside her fears and let herself love him too.

"Hey …" she said softly, with a little pout, "I'm hungry …" She disentangled herself from his warm embrace and sat up, stretching her arms above her head and yawning. Andrew eagerly agreed with her, and suggested going to a restaurant as opposed to either one of them cooking.

"Besides," he said, "I don't think we even have anything for breakfast left after the feast Tess gave us yesterday morning. We could go down into the city, find a nice little café, maybe walk around, and see the sights. We haven't really had much time in the past to do those sorts of things, so it could be fun …" Monica nodded, quite excited to get away from the cabin and its surroundings for a while.

They agreed to leave in a half-hour, which gave them plenty of time to get ready for the day, and still time to catch a restaurant before it closed for breakfast. As soon as Monica was ready, she met Andrew in the foyer of the cabin, and she was suddenly struck with a thought.

"Hey, how're we gonna get down the mountain? I mean, we're in human form, so we can't just _go_ …" she said, indicating the convenient privilege of disappearing and reappearing in the blink of an eye whenever necessary. But Andrew had already thought ahead and shook his head,

"_We_ can't, but Tess _did_," he said, taking the keys to the caddy out of his jacket pocket, and swinging them slightly, a grin on his face. Monica's eyes widened and she returned his smile hesitantly,

"Are you sure we should take it? You know how she get's about that car …"

But he just shook his head again, insisting that it would be fine. Trusting him absolutely, she gave in and they headed down the mountain with Andrew behind the wheel and Monica taking in the beautiful scenery. It took about twenty minutes to get down the winding road from the top of the mountain into the town below, and ten minutes after that to find a café that wasn't too crowded. They were seated quickly, waited on within five minutes, and eating in fifteen.

As they were finishing, Andrew suggested that they explore the town on foot. He left some money on the little table in the corner to cover the bill, and they set out hand in hand down the covered sidewalk, taking in the sights. They walked, talked and laughed, stopping every so often to admire various storefronts, including a pet shop with puppies for sale, which Monica absolutely insisted on going inside. Andrew, who could deny her nothing, accompanied her and waited patiently while she played with each puppy equally, telling each that if she could, she would take them home for Christmas.

They spent the rest of the day in the cozy little town, not really doing anything in particular, just enjoying each other's company. It was well into evening when Andrew suggested that they grab a bite to eat, and head back to the cabin. He could tell that, as much as she enjoyed being out, she was tired from being up so early that morning.

They found a little diner that advertised "the best burger in Colorado" and they sat next to each other in a booth, sharing an enormous plate of food that even between them they could not finish. The sun was sinking quickly beneath the horizon, and Andrew feared that making it safely back up the mountain would be more difficult to do in the dark, and insisted that they get going.

They walked hand in hand, their eyes seeing nothing and no one else but each other. They arrived at the car, and Andrew opened the passenger side door for Monica, but before he let her get in, he tugged her gently into his arms and kissed her deeply, thanking her for a wonderful day. She agreed that it couldn't have been more perfect. She looked into his eyes adoringly, her face mere inches from his, almost hypnotized by the deep green pools.

"I love you …" she whispered, surprising herself by how easily the words came out, and loving the way that saying them aloud made her feel. Andrew lovingly brushed a strand of her hair from her face, hating that he had to let her out of his arms, but knowing that to make it home before dark, he would have to. He placed another gentle kiss against her lips before releasing his hold on her, only to take her hand into his own as soon as they were both in the car, blissfully ignorant of the fact that Tess, who had been in the little town on assignment, had seen and heard the entire exchange.

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_**More soon!**_

_**Love, A**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Hey everyone! I would just like to say a big "thank you" to all of you for the kind reviews! I live for signing on everyday to see if there are any new ones. You guys make my day! As you might have noticed, I've been updating more frequently lately, and hopefully that will continue. I've had A LOT of free time lately, and I'm hoping that this free time will extend 'til the end of this tale. Cross your fingers for me!**_

_**Oh, and for those of you who thought this would just be "a lovely little love story" … hold on tight, 'cause the ride starts now. ;)**_

_**HAPPY CHRISTMAS!**_

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Tess had absolutely no idea what to think about the scene she had just witnessed as she watched her red Cadillac fade away into the increasing darkness. She just stood in place shaking her head, praying to the Father that she had imagined it. Understanding flooded through her like a rushing river as she thought of the past two days spent with her "babies" at the cabin. The strange tension that had seemed to appear suddenly from nowhere, and the funny feeling that she was missing something important, and the fact that both Monica and Andrew had been less than talkative around her … oh yes, it all made perfect sense now. She wondered how long this "behavior" had been going on right under her nose, and how long they were intending to keep it from her. They had spent much time alone with each other in the last few days, with their numerous walks in the woods and their late nights on the porch. Realization hit her like a ton of bricks …

_They were probably happy to have me leave yesterday,_ Tess thought, remembering the look on Andrew's face when she said that she'd be away for a while. As she replayed the scene in her mind, the possibility of having imagined the whole thing grew smaller and smaller. No, she had definitely seen it, and a tight knot formed in her stomach. How in the world had this happened? What caused it, and _why?_ The earthly love that humans shared was a wonderful thing, but between angels … no, it was expressly forbidden. And they _knew_ that … didn't they?

A million thoughts raced through Tess's mind, and all she could focus on was getting through her assignment, and getting up there to find out what was going on between the two of them. She had been planning on returning late that night, and hoped that everything would continue to go smoothly, so that she could stick to her plan. For the first time in her existence, she found herself wishing that her assignment would finish as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, the two angels in question were still enjoying themselves immensely, having arrived back at the cabin just as the sun sank below the horizon, washing the side of the mountain in blackness. The inside of the cabin was chilly, and Andrew immediately started a fire in the big stone fireplace, adding extra wood so it would burn for a while. Monica removed her heavy jacket and hung it in the closet by the door before heading to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. She figured that Andrew would want some hot chocolate, so she started a small pot of milk boiling for him on the stove as well. As she was about to scoop the coffee grounds into the filter, she was interrupted by a rather large yawn and as a second thought, decided on decaf instead. It was only half past seven, but she had a feeling that she would be going to bed early tonight. The day, as wonderful as it had been, had thoroughly exhausted her and she didn't want excess caffeine keeping her from getting a good nights sleep.

She waited for her coffee to brew before she mixed Andrew's hot chocolate, and then brought both mugs into the living room, where he was still coaxing the flames in the fireplace. He finally got them blazing after adding two more logs, and then he joined her on the sofa a few feet away. After thanking her for the hot chocolate, he slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

"Thanks again for a wonderful day, Princess," Andrew said softly, feeling quite weary himself after everything that they had done. From the different cafes and restaurants they had visited, to the countless shops that had caught their attention, it had been a very eventful day.

"Your welcome, and thank _you_ …" She replied softly, leaning backwards into his embrace, her head falling easily to his shoulder. "You know my favorite part about the whole day was just being with you," she said with a smile, "but those puppies come in a very close second. I wish I could have brought one home … or _all_ of them …"

Andrew just had to laugh. "Can you even begin to imagine the look on Tess's face if she came home to find a puppy in _her _cabin? And that would be just one, she would probably drop dead if there were _nine_ …" The smile that had graced Monica's face fell slightly at the mention of their supervisor.

"Tess should be home soon," She observed quietly, and Andrew thought he caught a trace of sadness in her voice.

"Yep," he replied, and then asked, "Are you ok?" She nodded quickly, and mumbled the word "fine," to which Andrew immediately argued.

"Liar …" he said playfully, "Tell me what's wrong."

Monica sighed. She could never hide anything from him, and she was just going to have to accept that. "I just … I don't know, I mean obviously we can't just _not_ tell her …" she said, her stomach fluttering nervously, "but how do we tell her?"

Andrew considered her question for a long moment. She was right, of course, they had to tell her what was going on. Even if they tried to hide it from her, she would eventually figure it out. Andrew thought that she already suspected that _something_ was going on, even if she didn't know what it was, and that she was bound to call them on it sooner rather than later.

"Well …" he said thoughtfully, "we don't have to jump up and tell her everything the moment she gets here. We can take a few days and try to ease in to it …"

"Yeah, that would probably be wise," Monica agreed, "either way; do you think she'll be mad?" One of Monica's biggest fears was disappointing Tess, and she hated to think that something that made them both so happy could possibly anger her supervisor, but she knew that they had ventured into uncharted territory, and that it might be a problem.

"Look, Princess …" Andrew said softly, as he could hear the apprehension in her voice, "no matter what she, or anyone says, it won't change the fact that I love you. It's not just going to go away, so you don't have to worry about that." He knew, whether she ever admitted it to him or not, that another of her greatest fears was loosing him, in any sense of the word, and he felt the same about her. They had become so accustomed to working together over the years that being apart for longer than an assignment's time seemed unimaginable. Andrew hoped that, for both of their sakes, nothing like that ever happened.

They continued chatting for a while, until Monica's eyelids were droopy, and her speech slightly slurred with fatigue. "Love you …" she murmured softly, closing her eyes and snuggling closer to him, making no move to get up. Andrew just smiled and was perfectly willing to let her drift off to sleep. He would move her later if it was necessary. He stayed awake and watched the fire dance in the fireplace, the heat from the flames spreading through the room in warm waves, until it had almost completely died down. He could feel himself quickly losing the battle against the fatigue that had already captured Monica, and he drifted off to sleep easily, never hearing Tess enter through the back door.

She stood silently for a moment, just listening. She didn't hear any movement, or voices, and wondered for a moment if they were even there. She walked through the kitchen to the living room and narrowed her eyes when they fell upon the pair of them, all wrapped up in each other on the couch. She was tempted to wake them up and demand an explanation immediately, but they looked so peaceful that she could not bring herself to do it. Besides, she wanted to have a talk with an old friend first, before she confronted them about anything.

Monica awoke the next morning to the sun shining through her bedroom window, and was momentarily confused of her surroundings. She remembered being on the couch with Andrew, but not falling asleep. He must have carried her up here sometime during the night, and she was surprised that she didn't wake up when he moved her. She sat up and stretched, and the wonderful scent of coffee instantly filled her nostrils, and she smiled to herself. She figured Andrew was already up and had started a pot for her. She slipped into her bathrobe quickly, and descended the stairs, stopping abruptly when she heard voices in the kitchen.

It was Tess and … someone else, but she couldn't make out the voice enough to know who it was. She didn't even know that Tess had come home already. She approached the swinging door to the kitchen, and stood on the outside quietly, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on on the other side. She listened for a few more minutes, not able to make out much of what was said. But suddenly, she knew.

It was the unmistakable voice of the Angel's Angel Sam. They seemed to be discussing something in hushed tones, and Monica could hardly hear a thing. She leaned closer to the door trying to catch the conversation, and she was suddenly overcome with the worst feeling. Her whole body froze and she felt like her heart had dropped from her chest into her stomach.

She couldn't be sure of what he was saying exactly, but he was definitely talking about her and Andrew, sounding rather angry. Monica had practically pressed her ear to the door, not caring in the least that she was eavesdropping. She caught her and Andrew's names in the conversation several more times, and a few other scatterings of words that did not make much sense. The words "not allowed," "wrong," and "rules" floated back to her through the door, and she backed away slowly, feeling sick to her stomach. How did they know?

So much for easing in to it. Somehow, Tess had figured it out and thought that it was enough of a problem to consult Sam. Monica's mind was racing at full speed as she hurried up the stairs, assuming that Andrew was still asleep in his room, and knew nothing of what was going on. She didn't even take the time to knock, she just opened his door.

Andrew stirred groggily at the noise, but he wasn't fully awake until he saw the stricken look in Monica's eyes as she came and knelt at the side of his bed. He sat up quickly and asked,

"Princess, what is it?" He thought something terrible had happened, judging by the whiteness of her normally rosy complexion. She looked as if she'd seen a ghost.

"Uh-I …" Monica stuttered, not quite sure how to describe what she had just witnessed. She took a breath and tried to speak a little slower,

"Sam's here and … I think we're in trouble …"

Andrew considered what she said for a moment, but the expression on her delicate face was enough to convince him that something was up.

"Ok hold on," he said, "Sam and Tess are friends, sweetie … what makes you think that him being here means we're in trouble?" Monica shook her head.

"I don't know," she said, "but I heard them talking … about us, and it didn't sound like a leisurely chat …" Andrew sighed and would have tried to reason with her further if not for the look in her eyes. He didn't like the sound of what she was saying at all, and hoped that she was wrong. There was really only one way to know though, and that was to go downstairs and find out for themselves.

Andrew gave Monica a quick kiss of reassurance, and then they both headed down the stairs and to the kitchen. Monica hesitated slightly at the door, but Andrew led her in with a gentle hand at the small of her back. Both Tess and Sam stopped talking and looked up abruptly upon their entrance, and Andrew thought that Tess looked startled to see them.

"Tess … Sam," Andrew said in greeting, nodding at the Angel's Angel respectfully, while Monica said nothing and just stared at the floor. Sam nodded back to Andrew and then motioned for the two of them to join them at the table. Neither Andrew nor Monica moved.

"What's going on?" Andrew asked, turning his focus to Tess pointedly. She looked away from his gaze, as if unwilling to meet his eyes, and Sam answered the question instead,

"We all need to have a serious talk."

Andrew could feel Monica tensing beside him. He could sense what this " serious talk" would probably be about, and he had a feeling that neither one of them would like it. "Ok, let's talk," he said, trying to keep cool for the moment.

Sam cleared his throat. "Tess came to me with some interesting news last night, and I would like an explanation from the pair of you." Monica took a breath and glanced nervously at Andrew, her face turning whiter than before at Sam's words.

"What sort of explanation?" Andrew asked, even though he knew perfectly well what Sam meant. At that, Tess spoke for the first time.

"Andrew, please don't play games. I was right there in town, and I saw you …" She said, shaking her head.

So that explained it. Tess had seen them kiss, and probably heard the "I love you." That was definitely not how Andrew would have preferred her finding out. It was surprising to him though, that she had thought it necessary to bring Sam into it before talking to them first. But it would do no good now to deny anything, not if she had seen.

"Ok, you saw us," Andrew said, "and you invited Sam over for coffee? Or is there something else you'd like to say?" His tone was sarcastic, and he knew that his words probably stung, but he didn't care.

"Andrew …" It was Sam's voice, and there was no mistaking the impatience, "this _behavior_ can't go on …"

Andrew was getting angry now. There was a great many things that he wished he could say in that moment, but he bit his tongue. Neither he nor Monica was really in any position to argue, after all. Monica had been quiet the whole time and finally spoke.

"Tess, we were going to tell you," she said softly, not looking directly at either her or Sam. "But we weren't sure how …"

Nobody said anything then, as Sam looked to the ceiling and shook his head. A moment later, he looked to Tess and said,

"I have to go and take care of something. I'll be back in a few days … figure this out."

And then the Angel's Angel disappeared before their eyes, leaving the three of them in a stumped silence.

* * *

_**More Soon!**_

_**Love, A**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Who knew that you would get TWO chapters in one day?! My brain was just far too full with delicious plot to wait, so I hope you enjoy this treat! **_

_**Once again, Happy Christmas!**_

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It was a very long moment after Sam had disappeared before anything was said between the two young angels and their supervisor. They just sat in an awkward silence, nobody really knowing what to say. Tess felt a little guilty about Sam, and she didn't miss the betrayal in her charge's eyes. She hadn't meant to hurt anyone, she had just been very confused and needed to talk to someone who could advise her, and who better than her own supervisor? She cleared her throat and then spoke softly, looking directly into Monica's eyes,

"Angel Girl, I need a minute alone with Andrew. Could you excuse us please?" Monica looked as if she would rather die than leave the room, and she almost said as much. But Andrew turned towards her, squeezed her in a gentle hug and kissed her forehead lightly.

"It's ok Baby, just go …" He whispered, so only she could hear. She hesitated another moment before turning reluctantly and leaving the room. Andrew's hands tightened into fists and his eyes flashed angrily at the pain that he could clearly see in Monica's. He turned around slowly, taking calming breaths so that he wouldn't do or say anything too irrational. Tess started in on him the moment that Monica was out of earshot.

"Andrew, I don't really know what to say to you," she said, shaking her head with disbelief, "except to ask you what you think you're doing with her?" Andrew narrowed his eyes.

"Excuse me?" He asked angrily, pulling out a chair from the table and sitting finally. He met her gaze with a challenging stare.

"Andrew, she's just a baby …" Tess said, "she hasn't been around for the hundreds of years that you have. Maybe she doesn't realize, but _you_ know very well what's allowed and what's not as far as relationships are concerned, and I'm very disappointed in you." Andrew knew that it was coming, the "rules" talk.

"You know better," she continued, "and I never would have expected this from you. Some other angel maybe, but not you Andrew. Monica has not had to deal with a whole lot of pain in her existence yet. I've tried to see to it that she remain as innocent and unscarred as possible, which is hard work, but I think that I've done fairly well …"

Andrew knew that Tess was extremely protective of Monica, and had been since the moment she became her supervisor, and that they shared a special mother-daughter like bond.

"I refuse to see her get hurt, Andrew … especially hurt by someone that she loves and trusts unconditionally like you." The words hit Andrew like a blow to the face, and he finally understood where she was going with this conversation.

"Tess ... I would _never_ do anything to hurt her, not in a million years. I love her …" he said sadly, his heart nearly breaking at her words. Surely she didn't think he would ever do something to hurt Monica on purpose? "I don't understand …"

"Andrew …" Tess sighed, "If you were anyone else … I would chalk it up to naivety, and tell you to un-feel whatever "love" you think you're feeling. But I can't use that on you, because you're a little too smart for that. So I need to hear it from you, exactly what's going on between the both of you, and I need you to be completely honest with me."

"Tess … I understand that you're trying to protect her. I've known how you've felt about her for a very long time now, and I would never do anything to compromise your trust in me." He paused, trying to work up the guts to say what he needed to say, "Since the first day that I met her, I've loved her in the same way that you and countless others do. She's very special to me. In the years that followed, as we worked together more and more and grew closer … I can't explain the shift in my feelings any more than I can understand it, but it happened and I've lived with it for a long time. I knew that the things I was feeling for her we're different, maybe even wrong. So I kept it to myself, fearing that if I told her what was in my heart that she wouldn't look at me the same, and I would lose my best friend. I couldn't stand the thought of not being with her everyday, so I kept my mouth shut …"

If Tess was surprised by his revelation in the least, she hid it well. She motioned for him to keep talking, and she continued listening.

"A few days ago … she came to _me _and said that she had been feeling differently and told me everything that was on her heart, including that she was having feelings for me that she might have if she was in love with me, Tess. I never thought that I would hear those words come from her mouth, and I could hardly believe my ears. She did what I never had the guts to do. If it was just me, then I would probably agree with you, but I can't …"

Andrew breathed a huge sigh, not really of relief, but just glad to get all of that off his chest. He had no idea what Tess would say next, though her eyes had widened in surprise when he told her that it was Monica who had confessed first.

"At first," he continued, "she was afraid of what she felt for me, but now … Tess there's no doubt in my mind that I'm in love with her. When she said the words 'I love you' to me … I could feel it right down to my heart, and I could see the honesty in her eyes. There's absolutely no way that either one of us are just imagining this …"

For a moment, Tess had been lost in his story, as if it was right out of one of Monica's silly romance novels. Tears had sprung to her eyes as she listened to him, but she blinked them away angrily when she realized what he was saying. She just shook her head again.

"Angel Boy, look …" she said, her tone softening in an attempt to reason with him, "I know that you think you're in love with her, but … it's not possible for that kind of love to exist between angels, Andrew it's just not …"

"It can't exist and yet … it does," he argued, ignoring the exasperated sigh coming from Tess. "I'm sorry, but I refuse to believe that this is just in our heads."

"Whether it's just 'in your head' or not, Andrew … there are rules and reasons why romance is not allowed and just because you _think_ that you're feeling something does not mean that you can just deliberately disobey them. Do you understand that?"

"Fine!" Andrew replied, nearly shouting at her, his anger escalating quite rapidly. "Then we're breaking the rules. Whether it's wrong or right, I love her, and I don't care!" He stood up from the table, nearly knocking his chair over and was halfway to the door before Tess's wary voice stopped him.

"Do you even realize what you just said?" He did realize, and a part of him regretted saying it so bluntly, although he would never take it back.

"Tess," he said softly, "I'm sorry but … nothing that you say is going to make me stop loving her. And you know Monica … I doubt it will have much of an effect on her either." And he said nothing more, just turned back towards the door and walked through it, his stomach clenching tightly when he saw Monica sitting on the couch looking distraught. She rose immediately and walked to him, searching his eyes for answers to the million questions that she had.

"Andrew …" she whispered fearfully, "what happened?" The need to hold her in that instant was far stronger than his desire to tell her of his less than cheerful conversation with their supervisor. He said nothing, just pulled her into his arms and held her as tightly as he dared. She could hear his heart beating quickly in her ear and she could feel her own heart speeding up to match his. A long moment later, he finally released her and led her back to the couch, pulling her down to sit with him. Her mind was racing still, and she thought she would scream if he didn't tell her what was going on. Andrew gazed at her, and the look in his green eyes sent a chill down Monica's spine.

"Princess …" he said softly, swallowing hard, "I love you, and nothing and nobody can take that from me, do you understand that?" Although she was still confused, and his words scared her, she nodded.

"Andrew, please … what did she say to you?" She asked the question, even though she thought she already had a pretty good idea. "She's mad isn't she? I knew she would be, I-I knew …"

Andrew pulled her close again and whispered,

"She's not mad at _you_, Baby … she's not happy with either one of us, but it's me she's mad at." Monica's voice trembled slightly when she asked,

"Why?"

Andrew didn't really know how to answer her question in a way that wouldn't scare her even more. He sighed heavily. "I told her that I loved you, and she lectured me on the rules and basically told me that loving you was deliberately disobeying them. And I don't know what that means exactly … but I don't think it's a good thing."

Monica might have cried if not for the terrible sick feeling that overcame her. She felt light-headed and suddenly claustrophobic, as if the room was closing in on her and she was powerless to stop it. She took some steadying breaths, and pulled away from his embrace to look into his eyes again.

"What's … what's going to happen?" She asked, but Andrew shook his head and shrugged. Neither one of them had seem Tess enter the room.

"For the moment," she interrupted, "nothing. But seeing as how my attempt to talk some sense into the pair of you hasn't worked … we'll just have to see. And just so you know," she continued, "if you can't find a way to resolve this, you might not like the consequences."

Andrew glared at Tess, his green eyes flashing dangerously. "What consequences?" He asked coldly. Tess had been hoping that she wouldn't have to be the one to tell them what they would be, but she couldn't back out now.

"Well," she began carefully, "I didn't suggest this, and it wouldn't even have crossed my mind unless Sam had said it first …" Andrew's fierce gaze all but forced her to continue,

"He said that if the 'problem' can't be resolved in an acceptable timely manner, he would have no choice but to …" and she paused, well aware that what she was about to say to them was probably something that they never thought they would hear. After all, the last thing she wanted to do was hurt them. She took a deep, trembling breath of her own and reluctantly finished her sentence,

"… separate you."

The silence was deafening. Andrew instinctively gripped Monica a little tighter, not daring to believe what Tess had just said. It was ludicrous to think that they would be separated as punishment. It was absolutely absurd and Andrew could feel the anger that had been building inside him all morning rushing to the surface at full force.

"WHAT?!" He exploded, releasing his hold on Monica and rising swiftly from the sofa. He wanted to shout or throw something, or both. He looked at Monica and his heart shattered. She was just sitting there in shock, her eyes glazed over and unseeing, trying to process what had just been said. She couldn't even cry.

"Andrew … calm down," Tess said softly, but she sucked in a startled breath as he rounded on her.

"NO," He fired back, shaking his head incredulously, pointing to Monica's trembling form on the couch,

"Look at her! And you thought _**I**_ was trying to hurt her?" He demanded angrily, "No, you've definitely just done worse than I ever could have imagined …"

"Andrew, it doesn't have to be like this … if you agree to--"

"To what?" He interrupted coldly. "To stop loving her? You must be joking. It's not a light switch that I can just flick on and off, I hate to break it to you." He was being plain rude now, but he didn't care. He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation. He was just on the verge of spitting out another angry comeback when Monica interrupted them both,

"When?" She croaked, her voice cracking with emotion. Tess looked at her, and knew immediately what she was asking, though Andrew looked confused.

"I don't know, Baby … Sam said he would be back in a few da--" but she cut herself short, glancing to the ceiling and back within a few moments. She looked back to Monica, hating what she had to say,

"I'm sorry … tomorrow."

* * *

_**More Soon!**_

_**Love, A**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Hey, I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas!! I hope this chapter finds you all well and rested from the holiday!**_

* * *

The deafening silence that had graced the three angels with its presence earlier had returned, but this time, it was much louder. Monica was finding it rather difficult to breathe, and unlike the previous times that she had been visited with this particular feeling, it was entirely unpleasant; she felt as if her heart had been snatched out of her chest and replaced with a block of ice. The sick feeling that had invaded her stomach was suddenly overwhelming, and she fled from the room in a quest for the nearest bathroom.

"Angel Boy, I-" Tess began, but Andrew held up his hand to silence her, throwing her a look that clearly said that talking to her now was not on the top of his to-do list. He could not believe that this was actually happening. Everything had been perfect just minutes ago and now it was completely falling apart. He ran a hand through his blonde hair and sighed deeply, many undesired emotions overwhelming him as well. There was no other place in the world that he wanted to be more than wherever Monica had gone and he said nothing to Tess as he left the room. He took the stairs two at a time and walked quickly to her room. He didn't find her there, but a moment later, he heard the unmistakable sounds of her getting sick coming from the hall bathroom.

He opened the door and walked to her, kneeling silently by her side, his heart breaking all over again at the sight of her trembling so violently, the nausea ferociously attacking her little body. There were tears streaming down her cheeks and he knew that being sick and human illness in general, frightened her terribly. Andrew couldn't do anything for her, except hold her long hair back and whisper soothing words until finally, after several long minutes, it seemed to pass. Her breaths came in short, ragged gasps as she leaned back against him, grateful that he was there, although slightly embarrassed that he had seen her throwing up.

"Are you ok, Baby?" He asked after another silent minute, and then mentally kicked himself for even asking such a dumb question. Of course she wasn't ok, and neither was he.

"Andrew …" she whispered, her voice sounding slightly panicked, "please … tell me I imagined that … Tess didn't say that, she c-can't mean …" but she couldn't finish. She didn't even want to think about it. Just hearing the words "separate you" had made her physically sick. If Tess was serious, Monica didn't know what she would do.

Andrew knew that Tess would not have said something like that lightly, because she knew how difficult being separated would be for them, even without their newfound romance. There was no doubt in Andrew's mind that she was extremely serious, and he couldn't remember a time that her words had unnerved him more. He was feeling a bit ill himself. He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through her hair soothingly.

"I'll be honest, Princess … I think she was being very serious," he said sadly, wishing more than anything that he could lie to her, tell her she had imagined it, and erase the last few minutes from her existence. But he couldn't, and now they had to figure out how to deal with it. He helped her up from the floor then, and led her down the hall to her room, where he insisted that she lay down and rest. After much arguing, she agreed and allowed him to tuck her beneath the covers and lay a gentle kiss against her forehead. It seemed to her as if he was going to leave as he started to walk away, and she instinctively reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Stay with me …" she whispered, and though her voice was but a soft whisper, it was an urgent request. He had no intention of going anywhere; he had just been going to shut the door to make sure that it was quiet for her.

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart," he said, squeezing her hand tightly, his lips turning up in a small smile. He returned to her side quickly after closing her door and crawled onto the bed beside her, although he stayed on top of the covers. He leaned back against the headboard and kept a watchful eye on her as she drifted off into a fitful sleep. He just looked at her as she slept, trying hard not to dwell on the fact that tomorrow she would be taken from him. If he had to come up with a list of the worst things in the world, losing her would be right at the top. He couldn't begin to imagine what tomorrow would be like for them.

She slept for several hours. A few times during her nap, Andrew saw the shadow of Tess's feet lingering on the other side of the door. Once, she even knocked softly. Andrew made no move to get up either time. He had no desire to see her, or hear anything that she had to say. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew that some of what she said, and a part of her argument was valid, and he felt slightly guilty about it. He had been somewhat familiar with the "rules" before all this. Tess had definitely implied it, even if she didn't come right out and say it. It was his fault. He was the older one and supposed to be responsible and wise. If he hadn't allowed things to develop between him and Monica, then none of this would be happening now.

"I'm so sorry …" he whispered aloud. Monica stirred beside him, opening her eyes and murmuring confusedly,

"For what?"

Andrew hadn't expected her to hear him, but she must have already been awake. He looked back at her sadly, and shook his head.

"I …" he began, "I just … I feel like this is my fault. Tess certainly thinks it is … I never should have let this happen in the first place …" he said, looking away. Monica's eyes widened in bewilderment.

"Wait … never let _what_ happen?" She asked, still not entirely sure why he felt the need to apologize. But a few moments later, she understood. "No," she commanded, shaking her head, "Don't you dare apologize for loving me …" She absolutely refused to let him be sorry for something that he had no control over, even if he thought that he did and could have somehow prevented it. In spite of everything, the stubborn look on her face made him laugh.

"Ok then … I love you and I'm _not_ sorry," he said, moving to touch her cheek lightly. She smiled and sighed, happy to have gotten her way, if for no other reason than the fact that arguing with him had momentarily taken her mind off of what was coming.

It was late afternoon by then, and the rest of the day continued to fly by much too quickly. They stayed in her room for the most part, talking about anything and everything except what the next day was bringing, until well into the night. Monica was feeling much better after her earlier upset, and had suggested that they take something to eat out to the porch swing. He had agreed of course, and they walked hand-in-hand down the stairs to the kitchen. They passed Tess on their way, but neither of them spoke to her. As they arrived in the kitchen, Andrew asked her sweetly,

"What can I make for you, Princess? Your wish is my command …" She told him pancakes, and he didn't even question the breakfast dish at such a late hour. If she wanted pancakes, she would have them. He rummaged through the cupboards, located all the ingredients that he needed, and then set to work, intent on making her the most wonderful pancakes she had ever eaten.

Less than a half hour later, they both carried out plates full of delicious, fluffy pancakes to the wooden swing on the porch. Andrew was glad to see that the quilt from the previous morning was still there, for it was quite cold out, and after her being sick, he didn't want Monica to catch cold. They ate to their fill, and after he took her plate and set it on the side table along with his, it was a few moments before he realized that she was crying.

Silent tears were pouring from her eyes, which were closed against them, and Andrew could feel hot tears stinging the back of his own eyes at the sight. He didn't have to ask her what was wrong … he already knew. They had finally reached _that_ point. The time where they could no longer pretend that everything was ok. They now had to come to terms with the fact that, in just a few short hours, their world would be turned upside down.

"I c-can't believe this is happening," she said, nearly choking on the lump in her throat, "it happened so fast and now … just as fast, it's ripped away …"

He wanted to say something, anything, to comfort her. But he knew that nothing he said could do that now, and so he just wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

They stayed on the swing until the wee hours of the morning, neither one of them even giving sleep a thought. Eventually, they moved back inside because of the cold, and resumed their position on the sofa, still not daring to close their eyes. Morning would come soon enough, and neither one of them wanted to waste these last precious hours together in sleep.

The cabin was bathed in a brilliant light as the sun rose the next morning, but the mood inside was far from warm. Monica had not been able to resist sleep and had finally fallen under as the sun was breaking the horizon. Less than an hour later, she jerked awake and more tears fell from her eyes as she noticed the daylight and realized that she had fallen asleep. Andrew tried to wipe them away, but they were only replaced with new ones. He gave up and without speaking, pulled her close to him again, his eye catching Tess coming down the stairs looking solemn. She regarded him sadly when he looked up at her, searching her face for a clue as to when Sam would be here. A moment later, his question was answered.

Andrew looked into Monica's tear filled eyes as Sam materialized before them in the living room of the small cabin to take Monica away. Knowing that it was time, he cleared his throat and asked in as civilized tone as he could manage,

"Sam, can we have a minute alone?"

Sam seemed to consider it for a moment, but then shook his head. "I don't think-"

"Please Sam …" Monica interrupted, quietly but desperately, and it must have been the look in her eyes that made Sam give in.

"Fine," he said, not at all happy about it, but figuring a minute wouldn't hurt anything. Not wanting to waste any of the precious seconds that Sam had allowed them to have, Andrew immediately pulled Monica up from the couch and into the kitchen. Once there, he pulled her into his arms and held her as tightly as he dared, running his hands over her long hair, as all the while, a painful knot formed in his stomach.

"Please don't ever forget that I love you, ok?" He whispered dejectedly into her ear. He felt her nod her head against his shoulder. As soon as Sam had appeared, her tears had stopped, and Andrew knew that it was because she didn't want the Angel's Angel to see her cry. But he could tell from her trembling shoulders that she probably wouldn't be able to keep that up for very long.

"You'll come and find me, right?" Monica asked brokenly, pulling away from his embrace just enough to look into his glistening green eyes.

"I … of course, I'll try, baby you know I will …" he replied, running his fingers lightly through her bangs.

"You most certainly will not."

Both angels turned startled eyes to the corner of the kitchen, where Sam could be seen, his features clearly angry, frowning impatiently.

"Sam … you said you'd give us a minute alone," Andrew said, trying to remain calm and keep his building anger in check.

"And you've had almost two," Sam said coldly, looking at Andrew with a challenging stare. Then he turned to Monica and added sharply, "Let's go. Now." Seeing that she wasn't going to come by herself, he crossed the room in three swift steps and took hold of her by the arm, pulling her roughly from Andrew's grasp, all but dragging her through the cabin.

Monica glanced over her shoulder every few seconds at Andrew, who had followed them closely out onto the front porch. Tess was there waiting, and as Sam and Monica descended the porch steps and walked down the path towards where Sam's car was parked, Tess took hold of Andrew's arm and led him gently in the opposite direction. At that, Andrew knew that it wouldn't be long before Monica lost it. And a moment later, he was right.

All of the emotion that she had been trying desperately to hold in in front of Sam finally came to the surface. She turned away from him and hung her head as the anguished sobs tore through her little body. Suddenly, not able to stand the physical separation, with all the strength she could muster, she wrenched away from Sam's tight hold on her and ran as fast as she could to Andrew.

Seeing Monica pulling away from Sam and rushing towards him, Andrew did the same, and left Tess standing in bewilderment by her car, and he didn't care. The only person that mattered in that moment was the little angel that he loved with all his heart. It only took a few seconds to close the distance between the two, and as soon as Monica was close enough, she literally launched herself into Andrew's arms and buried her face in his chest, her tears falling again like the rain. A sob caught in Andrew's own throat as he listened to her cries. He tightened his hold on her, wishing desperately that he wouldn't ever have to let her go. But he knew that in a few seconds, she would be ripped from him again.

Sam stood by his car, his anger boiling. _They know it's wrong, and yet still, they push it,_ he thought angrily to himself. Well, they had to be broken of it somehow, and if this was the only way … then so be it.

Andrew saw Sam approaching out of the corner of his eye, and he knew they didn't have much time. He pried Monica away from him gently but firmly, took her face in his hands and gazed lovingly into her red-rimmed maple brown eyes. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words came out and she closed her eyes as more tears spilled onto her cheeks. Knowing that it would enrage Sam if he saw, but only thinking of Monica in that moment, Andrew pressed his lips against hers in one final kiss. Just as he did, she let out a strangled cry as Sam grabbed her around the waist and held her arms behind her back, preventing her from breaking free again. Sam was treating her like a prisoner, and it made Andrew sick.

The scene that followed was horrible. Sam, after having practically dragged Monica away from Andrew for the second time, proceeded to load her into the back of his car. His heart shattered into a million pieces from the look in her eyes as she looked out at him from the back window. He watched until the car had completely faded in the distance before turning his eyes to Tess and glaring at her, as if daring her to say something. She just looked at him for a long moment, almost sympathetically, but clearly disappointed. She sighed heavily.

"Andrew, I know-"

"Just don't," he interrupted coldly, his eyes flashing in anger and hurt, "I don't want to hear anything that you have to say. As a matter of fact, I've heard enough to last me the rest of my existence and I don't care."

With that, he turned and walked quickly away towards the snowy forest so that Tess wouldn't see him cry.

* * *

_**More Soon!**_

_**Love, A**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Heyyyy everyone! I hope that this chapter finds you all well and ready to forgive me for my lack of updating. :D I've started back at university after a very nice long break, and I've been terribly busy since going back. I totally missed writing this story, and you have no idea how glad I am to be back with an update. I bet you thought I was abandoning it. NEVER! **_

_** Anyway, this chapter is sort of a filler, but I hope you enjoy it!!**_

_** Love, A **_

* * *

Andrew sat on the same park bench on the side of the path that he had found Monica on two mornings ago. Two mornings ago, when their feelings had first made themselves known, everything was still somewhat normal. Two mornings ago, they were both blissfully ignorant of what the following days would bring. Two mornings ago, all they knew was security in each other. Now, they had none of that. Two _minutes_ ago, it had been ripped away.

As he sat on the bench, Andrew finally allowed his tears to fall. There had been several times in the last day and a half that he had wanted to cry and held it in. He wanted to be the strong one for her. And he had managed. Now, there was no one around. There was nobody that he had to be strong for. She was gone, and so he hid his face in his hands and let them fall. All he could think about was the look in Monica's eyes as Sam's car was pulling away. It was far more than just sadness. Betrayal, hopelessness, pain … the list was long, and Andrew knew because he felt the same. A long while later, or maybe a short while, he wasn't sure, Tess came looking for him. She stood quietly for a moment, and then spoke tentatively.

"It really wasn't in my hands, you know," she said softly, "if I could have done something, anything … don't you know I would have moved heaven and earth for her, Andrew? After talking to you, I … tried to tell Sam that separating you wouldn't matter, because it wouldn't change what you felt. I tried to tell him that, but he wouldn't listen. I fought for you. We even took it to Ruth, Andrew … and I lost. _We_ lost, and there was nothing more that I could do."

Andrew wanted to believe her. After all, it was Tess. He knew that she would never intentionally allow Monica to be hurt the way she just was. He understood that, but it didn't help much. He sighed heavily, and finally looked her in the eyes.

"Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do," he said, his tone slightly less icy, "but it might take me some time to accept your apology. I hope you can understand that. Besides," he continued sadly, "the only thing that would make this better is having her back." He looked away, and his eyes locked on the exact place where he and Monica had been standing when they shared their first kiss in the moonlight, with the snow falling lazily around them. The memory made his heart physically ache, and he could feel his eyes burning with tears again, though he held them back.

Tess was grateful that Andrew was even speaking to her at all, and she completely understood his need to take his time with accepting her apology. Today had been a serious blow, and Tess knew that he and Monica both were in shock at the quickness of their separation. Healing from this, if it even happened at all, would be a long time coming.

"I have an assignment," said Tess, interrupting Andrew's thoughts, "that's why I was coming to find you. I have to go now, and you can come if you want … or stay here, it's up to you."

The last place Andrew wanted to be was the cabin, especially alone. He wasn't sure that he wanted to be with Tess on an assignment, but anything was better than sitting in the cabin by himself. The little house made of logs, which used to be a welcoming place for rest and relaxation, had suddenly become Andrew's hell, and he told Tess as much. She flinched slightly at his usage of the word 'hell' and almost reprimanded him before she caught herself. Now was not the time to be the supervisor. He needed a friend, and she was going to try her hardest to give him that support, even if he couldn't accept it at the moment. After a few more minutes in awkward silence, Andrew finally answered her.

"I'll come … if that's my only choice besides staying here," he said dryly, seriously hoping that whatever assignment she was going on, that he wouldn't have to be involved much, or even at all. Tess didn't plan on involving him anyway. She couldn't very well expect him to work, and do a good job with it, the way he was feeling now. It would probably be a while before he felt up to it, but he was on vacation anyway. She decided that she could take him to where he would be staying and let him get settled, and then she would go. That would be easier than having him tag along because she really had no idea how long she would be.

At that, they walked back to the front of the cabin where Tess's Cadillac was parked, Andrew staying several paces behind her the whole way. They rode in complete silence down the mountain, through the little town that he and Monica had spent the day in, and on to a big city more than an hour's drive away. The difference in the atmosphere was noticeable immediately. It was much warmer, although still quite chilly, and there was an obvious absence of snow. In sharp contrast to the little town at the base of the mountain, this city was large, unfriendly, and cold in spirit.

Tess pulled the car up to a red brick building some minutes later. It looked like an apartment building, and Andrew, figuring that this was the location of Tess's assignment, made no move to get out. He looked at Tess questioningly, his eyebrows raised, and asked,

"Where are we?"

"Denver," she replied, "and this is where you are going to be living … for now," she nodded towards the building and motioned for him to get out and follow her inside. The building was very elegant and it even had a door attendant, who welcomed the two angels with an overly large and annoying smile. They continued through the lobby to the elevator, and that was where Tess left Andrew.

"Here's a key," she said, holding out a silver key on a simple keychain, "and you're on the fifth floor, number 534. I'm not sure how long this assignment will last, but when it's over, I'll come by and check in on you and let you know what's going to be happening in the next few days."

Andrew watched her walk away and he had never been so happy to see her go, and he almost felt ashamed for feeling that way. A part of him wanted to accept her apology, but another part refused to. He had a hard time believing anything other than that she must not have fought hard enough for them. She could do all the consoling she wanted to, but nothing, at least for the moment, could alleviate the grief that was in his heart. Nothing could take away the physical emptiness that he felt without Monica.

Monica. He couldn't even begin to imagine what she must be feeling now. Not being with her, especially when he knew that she was hurting, was almost unbearable, and he knew it was probably hitting her much harder. It was difficult to remember a time when he didn't know her, when she wasn't with him … it was hard to remember a time when she hadn't been there, either right with him or in the next room. Being without her now just wasn't right.

The elevator arrived and Andrew stepped into it, excusing himself past a young woman with blonde hair who was getting out. She smiled politely at him, and although he tried to look pleasant, he couldn't bring himself to smile back. He pressed the button for the fifth floor and waited as the elevator creaked slowly upwards. When the doors slid open again, he found himself in a long hallway and he located #534 quickly as it was just to the near right of the elevator. As he opened the door, he didn't even bother to turn on the light. He could see that it was furnished and decorated nicely, but he didn't care. He flopped himself onto the couch and just stared into space. His mind was still reeling, and he found himself thinking that this just might be the worst day of his existence yet.

* * *

Sam hadn't said one word to Monica since they had driven away from the cabin. Away from Andrew. She couldn't even look at him. She could hardly believe that this was really Sam. Sure, he was an Angel's Angel and there was aura about him that demanded respect, but she had always gotten the impression before that he was kind and caring, if a little strict. She had never expected him to be so impersonal and so … cold. There was nothing about him that Monica respected now.

She sniffed loudly and rubbed her swollen eyes, although she had ceased crying almost the moment that they had driven away. As nonsensical as it was, Monica wondered if Sam was _enjoying_ putting her and Andrew through this pain, and because of that, she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. As hard as it was, she was managing all right to keep her endless number of tears from falling, at least for the moment. She had been staring at her lap for the majority of the ride and not paying attention to her surroundings, so she had no idea where they were. They had been driving for at least an hour she was sure. Her question of where they were was answered soon enough though, as they drove into a big city and she saw a sign that said 'Welcome to Denver.'

_Great,_ she thought. She hated big cities, but more importantly, she hated being alone in a big city, and with or without Sam being there, she would be alone. She tried to think of something else, anything else, but it wasn't really working. The stark reality of her new situation hit her hard, and she felt like her whole world was closing in on her. How could everything have changed in such a short amount of time? Just this time yesterday, everything had been fine, wonderful, perfect … she had never expected that _this_ is what was going to happen. Never would she have guessed that her world would be turned upside down on such a large scale. She and Andrew both had been nervous to see what Tess' reaction would be to their news, and they had planned to let her know slowly. Their plan to ease in to it was cut short however, when she witnessed their exchange in the town at the base of the mountain. Everything changed from that moment on. It didn't feel like to Monica that they had been given any time at all to explain properly or to make Sam and Tess understand.

How could they have been so stupid? So careless? Going into town had been a mistake, and Monica couldn't help but think that if they hadn't made that error, none of this would have happened. Tess wouldn't have seen them, and they would have had more time together, and more time to figure out how to tell her. The moment that Monica had heard voices speaking of her and Andrew, time seemed to speed up drastically. When it was announced that Sam would be coming to separate them, every minute, every second was precious … and the seconds had slipped away faster than either of them realized, until there was no time left. Time. It had never been an object of concern before. Now, time was all Monica could think of. The time that she _didn't_ have with Andrew.

She had been so engrossed in her depressing thoughts that Monica didn't even realize that they had stopped until Sam cleared his throat and spoke coldly,

"This is your place," he said, pointing at an old brownstone apartment building. The first thing that Monica noticed was that one of the topmost windows was broken. It looked … trashy, and that wasn't even the worst word she could have used to describe it. She wasn't used to living anywhere other than the cabin when she was on earth, so having a 'place' that _wasn't_ the cabin was strange to say the least, especially a place that looked so un-welcoming.

"Your key," he said simply, and handed her a single silver key with no key ring. "Second floor, third door on the right. I'll be by sometime later tonight." And that was all he said to her, and he said it all without meeting her eyes. He didn't offer to take her up and show her where to go, not that she expected that from him now. But still, after all that she had been through today, she thought he could have at least been a bit warmer towards her. After a few more seconds of silence, it was apparent that Sam was not going to say anything more. Monica got out of the car, her little silver key closed tightly in her hand, and never looked back.

Walking up the sidewalk to the door of the building was unnerving. There were clusters of people hanging around the door, smoking and drinking, and someone had a radio with loud rap music playing. Monica squeezed past the group of mostly men and she tried her hardest to block out the whistles and catcalls, but she held her breath until she was safely past them and inside. There was trash in the hallways, and the wallpaper was yellowing and peeling in many places. The cement floor was covered with the thinnest of carpets and just inside the door, there was a large, dark stain that looked eerily like blood. That thought sent a shiver of fear up Monica's spine. There was no elevator. The stairwell was just as trashed and it smelled of leaking sewage. When she emerged onto the second level and located the door that was third on the right, she was almost afraid to go in. The sticky-sweet smell of marijuana invaded her lungs. The wooden door with cracked and peeling paint opened with a creak and she found herself looking into a dark and depressing studio apartment with the barest of furnishings. A mismatched couch and chair sat haphazardly in the middle of the room. Immediately to her right, there was a kitchen with a single burner stove, a small refrigerator, and two cabinets. To her left, an alcove in the wall with a bed, and a little room off to the side that she assumed was the bathroom. The whole place was smaller than the living room of the cabin. The terrible little apartment was enough to send the tears that she had held back in front of Sam to come cascading down her face. She walked slowly to the bed in the corner of the room and sat on the edge.

Where was Andrew now? What was he doing? What was he thinking? She couldn't wrap her mind around the idea of never seeing him again. They had been separated before with assignments, but it was always with the promise of seeing each other again. When things got tough, all she had to do was remind herself that she would see him again soon, and that was all it took to make her feel better. What was she supposed to tell herself now?

She sat numbly for hours. Only when night had fallen did she get under the covers of the sunken bed. When she thought that she had no more tears left, they still came until she had cried herself into a fitful slumber. Sam never came.

* * *

_**More Soon!**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Hullllooo everybody! Not too much of a wait this time, eh? I like it this way much better too, so hopefully we won't have any two-month-long waits. That wasn't any fun at all. **_

_**I hope this chapter, as always, finds everyone well! Enjoy. :)**_

* * *

Monica awoke with a start early the next morning to a sharp knock at the door of the little apartment. She pushed the thin blankets aside and stumbled blindly to the door. With there being no peephole, she had no way of knowing who was on the other side. She cracked the door open cautiously at first, but then she saw that it was Sam. She wanted to slam the door in his face, but she didn't dare. Instead, she swung it open just wide enough for him to squeeze through. He strode passed her and waited for her to shut the door before speaking. 

"Sorry for not coming back last night, I got busy with something important," he said, not looking at Monica, but observing the bleak interior of her apartment. He had obviously not been inside before now. Monica's eyes rolled at his apology. She seriously doubted that he was _sorry_, and she wished that he would just leave her alone, though the chance of that happening was probably slim to none.

"I don't have anything for you to do yet, but you can expect to be back to work within the next day or so. Also, I don't think I need to tell you that you are not permitted to go anywhere without my knowledge. I know you don't like me right now, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm in charge of you, at least for the moment," Sam continued. Monica was only half-listening and chose to ignore him instead of respond. She _had_ heard the 'back to work' part though and she almost laughed. How was she supposed to work, and do a good job no less, with the way she was feeling now? She was supposed to be on vacation until after Christmas anyway, but there wasn't really a point to that now, she supposed.

Sam finally looked at her and it was almost as if his eyes demanded a response. Monica still refused to speak to him and returned his stare challengingly until he finally left her alone. With a slam of the door, he was gone again. With the daylight pouring through the window, her apartment didn't look so bad. The carpet was stained and the wallpaper was peeling, but it was otherwise clean, which made it slightly less depressing. She was on her way to inspect the kitchen when another knock sounded at her door. Figuring it was Sam again, she groaned loudly. Upon opening the door, however, she discovered that it was not Sam at all.

It was a young man with shaggy brown hair and blue eyes. He was wearing khaki pants, a black polo, and a green apron that had a 'Starbucks Coffee' patch sewn in the middle.

"Uhh … sorry I didn't mean to bother you or anything, I just … I saw you come in last night and I wanted to come and welcome you to the building. I know it looks like it's seen better times, but it's not all bad," the stranger said, smiling cheerfully. "My name is Jason, by the way …"

Jason had lived in the building for two years and for the last month, he had been alone on the second floor. The super had evicted the other five apartments on the floor when they had been busted with weed. The place still reeked of the stuff. He had just gotten home from work the night before when he had seen the pretty red-headed woman walk in. She didn't seem like the kind of girl that would be living in a place like this, but he couldn't say that he wasn't glad for the company.

She was beautiful and Jason was momentarily mesmerized by the color of her eyes. She smiled back, but her eyes told a different story. He had always been good at reading people's emotions.

"Monica," she said softly, taking his outstretched hand and shaking it politely. Jason grinned when he heard her voice. She was definitely not from around here.

"It's very nice to meet you," he said, "and I'm glad you've moved in. If you ever need any coffee, I'm your man. I manage the Starbucks a block from here and across the street. You should come by sometime."

And with that, he left. Monica thought it very nice of him to come by and say hello. It was probably a good thing that she didn't notice the way he had been looking at her. If she managed to make a friend, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. But then she scrubbed that thought. No, it was still _so_ bad.

* * *

Andrew did not sleep all night. He didn't even try. It would have been pointless. He just sat in the living room of his apartment until Tess came the next morning. She knocked softly and called out that it was her from the hall. He let her in and immediately resumed his position on the sofa without looking at or speaking to her.

Tess hated to see him so upset, but there wasn't anything that she could do about it now. Eventually, as hard as it would be, he would just have to move on and accept the fact that Monica was no longer a part of his life. He was strong and she knew he could do it. He would have to. They both would.

"I said I would come by to—" But Andrew interrupted her.

"Do you know where she is?" He asked, looking at her for the first time since she had arrived. Tess looked at him sadly and sighed.

"No Angel Boy, I don't know where Sam has taken her. He thought it would be better if neither one of us knew, so he didn't tell me. Sam doesn't know where you are either, for the same reason. I think I agree with him though. How hard would it be to know where she was, and still not be allowed to see her?"

Her argument was valid, and Andrew had to admit that. It would be worse knowing, because if he knew where she was, nothing in the world could stop him from going to her, and that would get them in more trouble. Maybe some things were better not knowing. "You have no idea what this is like Tess," Andrew began, turning away from her again, "I can't imagine never seeing her again … it's just unimaginable."

Tess's heart ached for him, but there was nothing that she could do or say to make it any better, as he had said the previous day. "Humans go through this kind of stuff every day, Andrew. People lose loved ones and they_have_ to move on. As unimaginable as it seems to you now, you_will_ eventually. Nobody is asking you to forget about her, and nobody expects you to, but the longer you sit here in the dark torturing yourself, the harder it will be to move on."

Andrew knew that Tess was right, as much as he didn't want to accept it. But for the moment, there would be no moving on for him, and that was just the way it was, torture or not.

"Look, I think you need to get out for a little while. Go for awalk or … something. I think I passed a coffee place on my way in, why don't you go get some hot chocolate? When you get back, we can talk about you working."

Andrew thought that sounded like an okay idea. The hot chocolate part, not the talking about working. The thought of working so soon did not enthuse him at all, though maybe working was what would keep his mind off of Monica, and maybe it wouldn't be so bad. As he grabbed his leather jacket and headed out the door though, he scrubbed that thought. Either way, it would still be _so_ bad.

It was just after six and the sun hadn't risen yet. For some reason, Andrew was glad of that. The coffee shop that Tess had mentioned was actually a Starbucks, and it wasn't very far at all, maybe a ten minute walk. He was glad for the exercise and fresh air. It was chilly out, but not cold enough to be uncomfortable, and the cold would make the hot chocolate that much better. He actually found himself looking forward to it.

The little coffee shop was situated on a corner and when he walked in, he was momentarily overwhelmed by the strong smell. It wasn't really the smell of the coffee, it was who he associated the smell of coffee with. For a moment, he thought about turning right around and walking out. But that was the kind of thing that Tess had been talking about. Moving on. And so he stayed to get his hot chocolate like he'd planned.

He was the only one in the store except for the workers behind the counter. Andrew lingered in front of the pastry case for some time trying to decide if he should try to eat anything. He'd been feeling slightly nauseas since the previous day and hadn't felt like eating anything since the afternoon before. Everything in the case looked extremely sweet and just looking at them made his stomach churn. Just the hot chocolate would do, at least for now. As he was about to turn towards the register and order, however, an item in the cold case caught his eye. It was one of those little bottles of Iced Mocha. Mocha was Monica's favorite. He picked it up, turned it over and over in his hands, and thought about throwing it across the room for a moment, envisioning the sound that the glass would make as it shattered on the floor. Instead of that, he put it back in the case and turned away so as not to torture himself further.

He approached the counter finally, where a young man stood behind the register. He had messy brown hair and a nametag attached to the signature green apron that read 'Jason, Store Manager.'

"Welcome to Starbucks, sir. What can I get for you this morning?"

"Uhh … may I please just have a small hot chocolate?" Andrew asked, holding out a five-dollar bill that he had found in his pocket. When it was ready, he took the hot beverage to the corner of the café and sat in a fluffy armchair. The sun had started to rise then and Andrew just sat staring out the window, sipping his hot chocolate occasionally, and thinking of nothing and everything at the same time.

Jason stood at the espresso bar steaming a pitcher of milk and he found himself thinking of the woman he had met earlier. Monica, didn't she say? She had looked so … sad maybe, but he didn't think it was just that. He hoped that she would come by sometime today. He wanted to talk to her and get to know her. But most of all, he wanted to know what had happened to her. He had always believed, as corny as it was, that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Her eyes said that her soul was hurting, and he wanted to know why. It must have been something bad, and recently. There was no other explanation for the lack of sparkle that should have been dancing in her beautiful brown eyes.

He had been so engrossed in his thoughts of his new neighbor that Jason didn't even notice that the blonde guy who had ordered the hot chocolate was back at the counter. He was the only one up front this morning and had to juggle working the bar and the register, which was no easy thing, especially on busy mornings. He sat the pitcher of milk down and hurried over to the counter.

"Sorry, man, I didn't even see you. Can I get you some more hot chocolate?" He asked, indicating the empty cup in his hand. Andrew nodded and passed it to Jason, who started making small talk.

"So, I didn't catch your name earlier …"

"It's Andrew," he said, reaching for more money to pay for the refill. But Jason stopped him.

"It's alright, man … refills are on the house today," he said. Maybe Jason was paranoid, but there was something in Andrew's eyes too … "Hey, uh … you're not from around here, are you?"

Andrew shook his head no and politely ended the conversation. He had no desire to talk to Jason, or anyone else for that matter. Well, he would have liked to talk to _someone_ … but since that wasn't possible, he would just keep his mouth shut. He wanted to walk. For a long time. And so he left the store and started down the street. Jason watched him go and hoped that he would come back again soon. He could probably use a friend. And then, just as he had been thinking of her again, a familiar red-headed female graced Jason with her presence. Jason was a little disappointed that Monica's timing wasn't better. If she had been _two minutes_ earlier, he could have introduced her to Andrew. They could probably have _both_ used a friend.

Monica had done it. She had left without asking Sam for permission. Did she care? No. He probably wouldn't even notice. And if he did … so what? What would he do, _really?_ She was so beyond caring that it was almost funny. Almost. She was surprised to find that she was glad that she had come to Starbucks, to see Jason, if for no other reason than that she knew him, and knowing someone was a good feeling. Knowing someone made her feel slightly less alone. _Slightly_.

"Hey … you made it!" Jason was thrilled that she had come, although he tried not to look too excited. He didn't want to freak her out or anything.

"Yeah, I … thought getting out of that awful place for a while would be good," Monica replied before realizing that she had just insulted Jason's home. "I mean … sorry, I'm just not used to it yet, that's all." Worse for Monica was the thought of being there long enough to _get_ used to it. She chatted with Jason for a few minutes before he asked her if she would like anything.

"Oh sure, uh … I'll just have a regular cup of coffee," she said softly, but then changed her mind quickly, "no, sorry … I'll just have one of these," she said, grabbing a bottle of Iced Mocha from the cold case. Jason refused her money when she tried to pay, insisting that it was "on the house." She thanked him and found a fluffy armchair in the corner to sit and drink her coffee.

She tried to enjoy the tranquil moment as best she could, tried to force her mind to think of something, anything but him. But it was impossible. Every sight sparked a memory, every thought a moment in time too precious _not_ to obsess over. Was this how it would be for the rest of … forever?

The tears came faster than she could stop them, quicker than she even realized. Surely, not forever. It had been less than one miserable day since she had seen him and the ache, the physically painful ache, in her heart was already so severe. Monica couldn't imagine forever. And then she noticed …

Fingerprints.

On her bottle, there was a set of fingerprints. A whole set, from thumb to pinkie finger. She studied the marks for some time. It was quite astonishing to think about the concept of fingerprints. A perfect and completely unique marker. No two sets of fingerprints were exactly alike. She pressed her fingers onto the bottle, making prints of her own on the glass just above the other set. It was a few minutes before she realized that the only visible difference between the two sets was size. The set that had been there was twice as big as hers. Otherwise, they were nearly identical.

* * *

**"Let's go on dreaming; for we are so close, and yet still ... so far."**

**_More Soon,_**

**_Love, A _ **


	13. Chapter 13

_**Heyyyyyyyyy everyone!! Wow it's been while, and I'm very excited to have a new chapter FINALLY! I've missed it sooo much, and I know you guys have too! I apologize for the wait and hopefully it won't happen like that again. No promises or anything, but it shouldn't be another five years before I update again! Thanks so much for your patience and thanks for sticking with this story. It's almost been a YEAR since I posted the first chapter and I can hardly believe it. You guys are awesome!**_

* * *

The sun had risen in the sky and an assortment of customers had come and gone to the little coffee shop on the corner. In stark opposition to the frazzled and hurried people surrounding her, Monica continued to sit and stare into space in complete oblivion to her surroundings. She had no idea how long she had been sitting there, only that, judging by the sun's position in the cloudless morning sky, it had at least been several hours since she had first arrived. Sam had not come looking for her yet, though she knew he wouldn't need to do much searching anyway. She had no doubts that he would be furious when he found her, which she found rather ridiculous. She was an _adult,_ was she not?

When she gave that matter a bit of thought, however, she realized that the answer she would most likely get to that question was _no_. She figured that, according to everyone else involved anyway, she and Andrew had "behaved" not much differently than two teenagers rebelling against their parents. In a sense, that is exactly what they had done, whether or not they chose to admit or believe it. But believing that, at least for the moment, was completely out of the question for Monica. Perhaps in time, her mind could learn to accept the horrible hand she and Andrew had been dealt, but her heart was another story.

In the last hours that she had been sitting alone, Monica had been trying to think of a reason, of an excuse, of … _something._ But there was no way for them to justify their actions, and that wasn't something she had thought about until after the fact. There existed no argument to use in their favor. It seemed that everything and everyone had been working against them. And, although she hated to think it, maybe they deserved it. Maybe it was forbidden and maybe it was wrong and maybe they were breaking some long lost rule. Maybe. But just as she and Andrew had been unable to provide a valid argument, Monica had yet to hear a good reason in return. Nobody felt it necessary to explain. No one had felt the need to do _anything_ but rip them away from each other without warning. And until someone could come up with a reason that Monica could understand and agree with, which wasn't likely anytime in the near future, she would resist Sam's authority, and anyone else's for that matter, regardless of whatever consequences might be waiting for her.

Monica knew enough about how things worked in their world to know that she had a choice. She knew enough about humanity to understand that she had just as much free will as any other being on the earth, and if she so wished, was absolutely able to choose humanity. Of course, she had heard, one did not take that particular jump lightly; there was no coming back once the decision was made. That thought terrified Monica, and it was only on extremely rare occasions that she thought it at all. She couldn't decide, as she sat staring at the empty and fingerprinted frappuccino bottle before her, if she was more afraid of the idea itself or of the fact that she was considering it more seriously than she ever had before.

* * *

The early morning rush had slowed significantly since Jason had welcomed Monica into the store, and it was safe to say that he had gotten little work done since. He found himself spending the majority of his time staring at her in an awkward transfixation, pondering all the possible things that could have happened to her to make her look so distraught. Something, or somebody, had traumatized this girl recently, and Jason had an aching curiosity to know who had done it and why.

Jason had something of a bleeding heart when it came to women. Usually the ones he ended up with needed some form of rescuing and he wasn't afraid to admit that he rather enjoyed being the hero. It was a fact that he considered inevitable, but more often than not, he ended up falling in love with them too. He had such an overwhelming desire to fix other people's problems that he usually left his own alone. He had some rather large problems himself, the biggest of which was the patchy relationship that he had with his estranged wife Brooke.

Jason and Brooke had gotten married when she was young, just nineteen, and after only knowing each other for a few months. To them, it had seemed like fate, true love, whatever anyone wanted to call it, but to everyone else, it was just plain stupidity. Jason was the single heir to an unbelievably large fortune from his father, and regardless of what anyone said to him, he refused to believe that Brooke was just after his money. He honest-to-God thought that she was in love with him for who he was and nothing else, but as the blissful first few months steadily went downhill, Jason began to suspect otherwise. He never really believed it though, not until he caught her in their bed with his best friend. His whole world came crashing down around him in a matter of hours. Worse even was the fact that she didn't seem to mind that she had been caught. She offered no explanation when he asked her why, she only looked at him with an expression on her face that told him he shouldn't have been surprised.

And after all that, he still loved her, loved her even more in spite of it. It was his idea to just move on, to try and work through it because he loved her that much. But it was over between them according to her, whether he wanted it to be or not. She begged and begged but he refused to divorce her because it wasn't something that he believed in, no matter the circumstances. His stance on the matter caused raging, screaming fights until he could no longer bear the pain of it and left. He let her have everything, even the apartment because he knew that material things meant a lot to her, and they meant very little to him. He couldn't bear to move far though and ended up renting a place just a few blocks away, the little run down brownstone that he now called home. Eventually, he had bought the building in the hopes of fixing it up, but it was definitely still a work in progress and would continue to be that until the end of time. The condition of the place embarrassed him to no end, and he never told any of his tenants that he was the property owner. He hired a man that he knew from college to do all of that stuff for him. He just liked to keep an eye on everyone and be there in case there was an emergency.

He saw Brooke occasionally, but they never spoke for very long unless it was to argue about getting a divorce. She was "in love" with Joe, his now former best friend, wanted to marry him, and couldn't stand the fact that Jason still held on to her in that way. In infuriated her to no end and every time she saw him, she made it extremely clear that she hated him. But to Jason, divorce just wasn't an option, at least not at the moment. He just couldn't imagine divorcing Brooke, because even after everything that she had done to him, he was still in love with her in some sense, and he didn't foresee being able to let her go anytime soon. Thinking about it, even now, caused him too much pain. And so, he threw his efforts into helping other people and ignoring his own problems for the most part. Which brought him back to the present and back to Monica.

She was just his kind of girl, the one with the mysterious past that needed rescuing from some horrible situation that had ruined her spirit. Abuse, death, drugs, alcohol … even rape. He had seen and lived through it all, nothing scared him and nothing surprised him anymore. Whatever Monica's story was, he had no doubts that he could win her over and turn her life around in a dramatic way. He always did. And then once he fixed them up and got them back on their feet, it usually wasn't long until they left. He expected it now, and he guarded his heart accordingly.

Jason had occupied himself with grinding coffee beans during his trip down memory lane and there were no more beans to grind. It was time for a break, and time to exercise his rescuing talents on Monica, for she was _still_ sitting alone, seemingly staring at nothing with the same stricken expression on her beautiful and delicate features.

"Hey Monica … do you mind if I sit here for a minute?" The movement was slight but he was almost positive that she had shaken her head no. He sat down and cleared his throat in an effort to start up a conversation, but he didn't really know what to say to her. She seemed different to him somehow, at least not like the other women he had known. There was something about her that was definitely different and he was determined to find out what it was. He had never been tongue-tied quite like this before, and that alone intrigued him significantly.

"So …" he started, racking his brain for a conversation starter to break the ice, "tell me about you … why have you graced Denver with your presence?" It was cliché, he knew, but it could work.

Monica looked up at him, slightly confused to hear someone talking to her. Was he even talking to her? There was nobody else around so the answer to that question was probably yes. She hadn't even seen him sit down. She had heard his question though, but she had no idea how she was supposed to answer a question like that. She couldn't very well tell him the truth, or at least not the whole truth. She didn't really know what to say.

"Well," she began slowly, "I'm just here for a change, I think … but it wasn't my choice," she said, looking away. Jason nodded, encouraging her to continue. He strongly believed that talking about problems was the best way to move on from something. But Monica just shook her head.

"I'm sorry but … I just don't think I can talk about this with you, with … anyone else really," she said, looking at him apologetically. Jason was about to try and convince her that talking would make it better when she suddenly went rigid in her chair.

Monica sucked in a slightly startled breath of air as she saw Sam approaching the door to the café, looking extremely upset. As defiant as she was currently feeling, she had hoped to have a bit more time to prepare what she was going to say to him. She stood up quickly, still holding on to her frappuchino bottle, and fed Jason a lame excuse as to why she had to leave so suddenly. She just preferred to meet Sam outside. She didn't want Jason to see them or hear what he would probably say to her, and she definitely didn't want to have to explain it to him later. She had him pinned down as the type of guy who would expect an explanation and wouldn't leave her alone until she spilled the story. She didn't want to put herself in that situation, and so she excused herself before it was even a possibility.

She stepped outside just as Sam was about to open the door. He didn't even look at her as he said,

"Walk with me, we have some things to discuss." His voice was crisp and strict and he never paused. "I have an assignment for you that's going to require you to put this all behind you, at least for the moment, and cooperate with--"

It was a few moments before Sam realized that she hadn't moved and still stood ten paces behind him. Monica wasn't sure where the bravery came from, but she was suddenly struck with the realization that Sam thought there was absolutely no way that she _wouldn't_ follow his orders like a little soldier, and that he would never expect her to defy him.

"No."

She said it simply and quietly and didn't move an inch. Sam stood like a statue for a moment without turning around to face her. The seconds ticked by until he finally turned around, the expression on his face a mixture of shock and rage.

"Excuse me? What did you just say?" Sam couldn't believe his ears. Nobody had ever directly defied him before. Monica didn't miss a beat though and kept her cool, holding on to the inner strength that she suddenly had building inside of her.

"You heard me," she said coldly and in low tones, somehow holding her challenging stare without faltering. She tried not to look terrified, but that's exactly how she was feeling. She bit her lip hard to keep it from trembling, while trying to remain calm in front of him. The last thing she wanted to do in this instant was cry.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he said, his voice softer somehow. The angel standing before him was not the Monica he knew. She had always been the excited one, full of joy and had always thrown herself full tilt into her work with a charisma that he rarely saw. That angel was gone. As angry as he was, he hadn't wanted this.

"I can't make you stay and I can't make you work, you know that. But don't do this for the wrong reasons. Disobeying me and refusing to work won't get you anything but into more trouble than you're already in. It won't fix anything. Things stay the way they are. I can't make that clear enough," he said, wishing for the first time that he didn't have to say these things to her. It was just the way it had to be. "I'm assuming that you haven't spoken to the Father recently. Might I suggest doing that before making any rash decisions?"

Monica didn't even notice that he had disappeared until several minutes later. A single raindrop splashed onto her hand, pulling her out of her reverie. She stood motionless as the rain began to fall around her, the drops that fell onto her face mingling with the tears and running together, so one could not tell which was which.

* * *

**_More Soon!_**

**_Love, A_**


	14. Chapter 14

_**I would just thank to say that I'm incredibly sorry for the long hiatus that I took in writing this story. The last year and half has been rough to say the least, and writing was the last thing on my mind. I don't know what came over me yesterday, but I just sat down and started writing again. I always had every intention of finishing this story, and I WILL. I guess I just have to hope that everyone who was reading before hasn't lost hope in me! I'll hopefully be updating frequently now, although I won't make any promises on that. Who knows what life will throw at you, right?**_

_**I hope everyone is doing well, I've missed writing this and hearing from you! :D**_

_**-Angie**_

* * *

It was perhaps a full minute that Monica stood outside, eyes shut tightly against the pain, before realizing that she was quickly becoming soaked through with rain. But she couldn't move. She could not open her eyes. Her mind was reeling. What had she done? The words had just fallen from her mouth before she had time to think them through and now … was it too late to take them back? Did she even want to? What was going to happen to her? What would she do? She hadn't meant this. Had she? She could already feel the changes in her physical form, however slight they were. She had already been human and experiencing things like fatigue, thirst and hunger but this was different. She was acutely aware of the fact that she could no longer feel any sort of connection with the Father. Before this moment, she had been trying desperately to block Him out and ignore any urge to speak with Him. Before now, she was absolutely sure that it was not possible for her to feel less alone. She had not expected this pain on top of everything else. The hole in her chest, the place where her heart had been ripped from her, opened up again with such fierceness that it left her nearly breathless. The only thing that held her together in that moment was her own grip on herself, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest in an effort to keep standing up straight. The urge to fall to the ground in defeat was dauntingly strong but somehow, she managed to stay on her feet. She took a steadying breath and finally opened her eyes.

She needed to get herself together. There were things to consider now that she was no longer an angel, things to take care of and arrange. She would no longer be provided for. She would need to get a job, some way to pay for her apartment and anything else she needed. Now that she was thinking about it, she had no idea what she needed. She had never had to worry about a place to live, money, transportation … thinking of all this made sinking to the pavement a comforting thought. But she forced herself to focus. The first thing she needed to do was find a job. But what would she possibly do? She had done so many different jobs while on various assignments but was hit again with the painful fact that choosing to become human erased all the knowledge that she had accumulated. She was essentially without any skills to offer the working world. She shivered at the thought and took a deep breath. She was really getting cold now and decided that she could just as easily work out what to do with her new life inside as out. She turned to her right to head back into the coffee shop and as soon as she stepped through the door and caught Jason's bewildered eye, an idea struck her. Not giving him any time to question her, she opened her mouth and asked the question.

"Jason," she started slowly, suddenly extremely nervous that he would think her a psycho and not want to hire her, "I uh … I was wondering if maybe I could possibly work here? If … if you wouldn't mind. The thing is, I just … I lost my job just now and I need something soon." She figured that was the easiest way to put it, although it wasn't entirely true. "I know a lot about coffee …" she offered weakly.

Jason stood and stared at her for a few moments, water dripping from her clothes and forming a puddle at her feet. She looked absolutely pitiful. He was dying to know who that angry man was and what he had said to her but he could wait to ask her for that information. There was no question that he would hire her, the decision was made the moment she asked.

"Monica, of course you can work. This is perfect actually; I just lost a few employees last week and have been needing some help around here," he said warmly, "why don't you go home, get cleaned up and come back in an hour to fill out some paperwork? You must be freezing …"

"No, really it's okay, I would rather just get it done now, I'm already here," she said quickly, trying to hide the panic in her eyes at the word 'home.' She wasn't entirely sure that the apartment would still be hers. She wanted to find out when she was alone and didn't need to come up with an explanation for anyone if it wasn't. She was incredibly grateful that Jason was refraining from asking the questions she knew he must be wanting to. She hoped that he would hold off long enough for her to gather her bearings with her new situation. She had never been quite this terrified in all her existence and she feared that talking about it aloud would be the point at which she broke down completely. For now, she decided it was best to try and push it from her mind and concentrate on the reality of her life now – job, place to live, life necessities. She was breathing slightly easier now that she'd actually gotten this job but she knew that it was sheer luck to have anything at all, what with having zero work experience and nothing to offer anyone.

"Alright," Jason said hesitantly, trying to read the look in her brown eyes, "come on back and we'll get started." He had to physically bite his tongue to keep himself from saying something to her about the events that had transpired within the last five minutes. A thousand emotions were going through his mind, from curiosity to anger to sympathy and everything in between. He guessed correctly that she was in no shape to talk about it anyway and so kept his mouth shut. "Ok, um let me see your driver's license and social security card so I can make a copy of it. Don't worry about filling out an application, that's usually just a formality anyway. As soon I get those copies, I'll get you set up on the computer so you can start the training modules …"

Monica tuned him out. A new brand of panic was beginning to settle in her stomach. Driver's license and social security card? _Damn_, she thought, _another thing to add to the list of worries_. She instinctively checked her pockets for a wallet that would contain these items and to her amazement and relief – she found them. She examined them quickly and recognized the Colorado State ID card, with the name "O'Malley, Monica Katherine." Of course the Father would not have left her with nothing, but she offered no prayer of thanks in return. The pain was still too raw to be thankful to Him for anything, least of all, an identity. It occurred to her that she _should_ be thankful because without these things, she would be in a world of trouble with no idea how to get out of it. But that, along with a myriad of other unwanted emotions, was pushed from her mind. Jason was going on a tangent that was something about "training you myself, the computers are not so reliable or accurate" and it sounded important so she tried to focus on him and his words. They went over the Employee Handbook and she filled out tax forms and several other things for around an hour. By the time they were finished with the paperwork and going over the different manuals, it was nearly noon. Monica was utterly exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. All she wanted to do was sleep, but she knew this was important and so she pushed through the exhaustion.

"Ok, I'll put you on the schedule to start tomorrow. Can you stay for a while longer today to get some hands on training?" She nodded and he continued, "It's going to be a little overwhelming at first but as soon as you're familiar with the recipes and the espresso machine, you'll be a pro." He went on to explain to her and show her all the different stations behind the counter – the hot bar, the cold bar, the pastry case and heating oven, the brewed coffee, and the ice machine. He showed her where to get cups, plates, insulation sleeves and extra pastries. After he deemed that she was familiar enough with her surroundings, he started to show her how to work the espresso machine. This was the only part that she really paid complete attention to. "This is super easy," he began with a grin, "I know it looks a little complicated, but it's really not. This is a smart machine and does everything for you. All you have to do is pour the espresso beans in the hopper and push the button." Monica could tell that he really loved his job. He explained everything in amazing detail and with a look of joy in his eyes. He had her pour two shots of espresso so she could taste the difference between a good and bad shot. "This is very important," he said earnestly, "you don't want to give a customer a bad shot in their beverage. It ruins the set flavor profile and just doesn't taste good." He continued through all the areas behind the counter for another hour and by that time, to say that Monica was exhausted would be an understatement and Jason could see that. Her clothes and hair had finally dried through but he knew she must still be extremely uncomfortable. He made it a point to walk her to the door.

"If you can work tomorrow, that would be great. You did really well today, I'm impressed with how easily you caught on. I think one more training shift should be enough for you and then you'll be able to swing by yourself from there. Go home," he said warmly, "you've had a rough day."

_If you only knew_, Monica thought sadly. For all she knew, the rough part hadn't even started. She still wasn't aware if she had a place to live, not to mention the fact that she had no food or water and only the clothes on her back, which happened to be stained with rain water. If she hadn't been so miserable, she might have laughed at the absurdity of the situation. She chose not to acknowledge the fact that this was all her own fault. She exchanged goodbyes with Jason, agreed to come in the next morning at six to continue her training, and started towards her building. It was freezing outside, the rain turning to snow and the streets starting to freeze over with the sheen of black ice. Her thin coat was doing little to keep her warm and her body began to convulse with shivers as she walked. She was extremely grateful that her apartment was only a block from the coffee shop. As she neared the front steps and passed the group of gangsters and drug dealers on the sidewalk, she took a deep breath to help combat her anxiety. She reached into the front pocket of her jacket to retrieve her key and was pleased to find that it was still there. A few moments later, as the key slipped into the door's lock and the door swung open, she could have cried with relief. She shut the door and moved across the small room quickly to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to find a jug of water and some grocery items. It wasn't much, but it was enough to last a few days. It was enough to get her going.

Now, she really did cry in relief. She had been holding in this anxiety for hours and she finally allowed herself to let it out. As the hot tears spilled from her eyes she made her way to the tiny closet in the corner, certain of what she would find and at the same time not daring to believe that she would be provided with clothes. She again breathed a sigh of relief to find that there were clothes hanging in the closest, if very few. There were two pairs of black pants, two white polo shirts and a pair of non-slick black shoes – the uniform she now needed for work - a pair of jeans, a long sleeve black t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants, a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of tennis shoes. Again, it wasn't much, but it was enough for a few days until she figured herself out. She was so emotionally run down and physically exhausted that she once again could not bring herself to change clothes or shower or anything. She just crawled under the sparse coverings on her uncomfortable bed and wished for an escape from the pain and uncertainty of the past few days. Her mind would not stop reeling. She couldn't breathe evenly, she couldn't get relaxed. Finally, after hours of lying awake and wishing for sleep she started to drift off. Just before she did, a thought crossed her mind that she pushed away almost as soon as she thought it – that though she had turned her back on the Father, He had not forsaken her.

* * *

Andrew, who had once again been sitting in the dark living room of his luxurious bachelor pad, knew immediately that something was wrong when Tess walked in. This was a look he recognized but didn't see often. This wasn't just sadness or hurt or confusion, it was all of those things but … no, something was _wrong_. He rose from his seat and crossed to her in two long strides. Instinctively, he knew it was about Monica.

"What is it?" He asked lowly, his eyes narrowing. When Tess said nothing he asked again, raising his voice, "WHAT is it?"

"I …" she began, not sure how to tell him what she had to tell him, unable to find the right words, not sure if she could believe it herself, "I don't know how to tell you this, I don't know how she--" but her voice cracked and she couldn't finish. Andrew had never witnessed Tess crying and he feared that he was about to. This must be something bad – to render Tess unable to speak and close to tears was a difficult thing to do. Andrew placed his hands on her shoulders gently and changed his tone from demanding to pleading,

"Tess … _please_ tell me. Whatever it is, I have to know."

Tess swallowed the growing lump in her throat and continued, "I've just been to see Sam, he called me into a meeting. Ruth was there too. They thought they should let me know that …" she paused to take a steadying breath. Saying it aloud would confirm its truth and although she had a hard time believing it, it had come from the mouths of Ruth and Sam and so she knew it to be true. "They didn't want me to tell you, they thought it wouldn't be good for you to know. I think they feared that learning what she's done would make you want to do the same thing."

She didn't need to say anymore. He understood, he got it. His eyes grew wide as he took it in, his mind the one reeling now, trying to comprehend this news. He shook his head slowly in disbelief, wishing with every fiber of his being that he was asleep right now and having a terrible nightmare, that he would wake up and Tess would not have delivered these crushing words … that he could retreat from this agony back into the mere misery of before that was becoming familiar. Not this, on top of everything else, this could not be happening.

"Andrew," Tess said softly, "this is not a good thing." As if he didn't know that, as if he was unaware of how not-good this was. He looked up to meet her eyes and nodded in agreement, his stomach churning with unease and distress. "I can't begin to understand what made her want this," she continued, her voice projecting a stronger front, switching suddenly from the soft motherly tone to one more suited to a supervisor with a delinquent charge. She missed the incredulous look that crossed Andrew's face at her words. "This is not the way to--"

"Not the way to do _what_?" he interrupted bitterly, his voice rising with an anger he didn't recognize in himself. "What _exactly_ did you expect from us after all this? Complete cooperation, bright smiles on our faces? You say you don't understand and you know what? You're right. You don't understand this, you_ can't_ understand. And if you can't understand why Monica would do this, then you don't know her at all. I know her inside and out and I can tell you honestly that I'm not surprised at all."

"Andrew …" Tess started gingerly, "You're not trying to tell me that you would consider doing the same?" She was not expecting the answer she got.

"Until today, no. Now I am," he said simply, looking away from her astonished gaze and trying to gather his thoughts so he could present them in an organized fashion, "Two months ago, if you had asked me this question hypothetically, I undoubtedly would have said that I would chose nothing over being in the presence of God and working in His favor. There is no greater reward for an angel; any of us would say that. If you were to ask me this question today, right now … what would I say? I would like to think that my answer wouldn't change, but I'm not so certain about that. I used to have _one _great love in my existence and that was serving God and fulfilling my purpose as His angel. Now I have two great loves and they are in conflict with each other. Even before I loved her this way, she was the source of most of my joy in working, the reason I love what I do so much. _Her_ joy was mine. Not having her by my side robs me of any desire to put my whole heart into my work because half my heart is missing. I'm not ashamed to admit this. I know that I should have been looking to God for this comfort and encouragement all along, but there you have it. I am flawed after all, we all are."

Andrew sank back into the seat he had occupied before Tess had arrived and dropped his face into his hands with a defeated sigh. He felt like he'd fallen to the ground only to get up and be pushed down again. It was a lose-lose situation for both of them. They either had to renounce their feelings for each other or become human in order to be together. Did he do what was considered right by the rules or do what was right by his heart and act on the free will that he had been given by his Father? Should he chose to lose Monica forever and continue working or chose to leave the presence of God and live a human life with her? It was an impossibly hard choice to make but Andrew knew, deep inside that it would come down to deciding what he could live with and who he couldn't live without.

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	15. Chapter 15

_**I hope this update, as always, is finding everyone well. I just want to leave a special note for you before you start to read this chapter: I've rated this story a strong 'T' for a reason, and the rating goes into effect now. This chapter starts to explore some dark things that will continue now for a little while. I want to warn everyone ahead of time that this may be a little disturbing. So read ahead with caution and do try to enjoy it! :) I apologize now if it offends anyone.**_

_**-Angie**_

**_

* * *

_**

_Monica was sure that she was dreaming. This couldn't be real; Andrew could not possibly be here with her right now and yet … there he was, sitting in the corner of her apartment, looking at her in that way he always did, one side of his mouth turned up in a grin and his green eyes twinkling, a slight glowing light casting off from him in all directions. She was afraid to speak, to breathe almost … in case either of those things could cause her to wake from this wonderful delusion. She sat upright in her bed, her eyes fixed intently upon the beautiful sight of him, wanting desperately to be near him, to feel his warmth, to hear his voice. She was terrified that if she moved, if she tried to get closer, he would disappear but the need to go to him was too great, like a magnetic pull that she could not resist. She found herself suddenly out of her bed and moving slowly across the room towards the corner where he sat, not daring to believe that she could actually approach him without waking up. Dream Andrew did not say anything, did not move, did not change his expression from the lop-sided grin, just continued to gaze at her in return. She continued coming nearer until she was just inches away._

"_Andrew?"_

_She forgot that she hadn't wanted to ruin this by speaking but again, the need was too great and she could not help herself. He said nothing still but rose from his chair and lessened the space between them even more, his face just millimeters from hers. She felt his hands on her cheeks, warm and comforting and she closed her eyes against the tears that immediately poured silently from them at the contact … it was almost too much to bear. She opened her eyes to--_

Monica jerked awake suddenly, painfully, the separation from Dream Andrew causing a physical ache in her chest and she let out a small cry of anguish as the dream faded away too quickly for her to hold on to the details. The tears were all that was left, little rushing rivers of salt water cascading down her face. She had been trying not to dwell on him constantly while awake during the last weeks and she nearly succeeded at pushing him from her mind altogether. With the stress and frustration she was experiencing at work, it was almost easy. Monica had not ever been able to understand the reason that some people cut themselves or used drugs or became alcoholics before knowing this brand of pain, before losing Andrew and losing herself. Now, she could very easily picture herself doing those very things, all at once, if it meant that she could forget him, forget this hurt for a moment. She hadn't done anything like that yet, but the thoughts were definitely on her mind often. Even in sleep, when sleep came at all, she could not escape the haunting memories of Andrew as he was there in her dreams. It seemed as though the harder she worked to block him from her conscious thoughts, the more frequently he showed up in her dreams against her will. Usually, he was just there … he had yet to speak to her in a dream and she did not hold out hope that he would. Instead of comforting her, these dreams were nothing short of tortuous. She woke up from them every morning hurting all over again, day after day, and she could do nothing to make them stop. Three months now, three months had gone since their separation and still the pain was so raw and sharp that at times, were it not for the fact that she was working or in the presence of someone else, it would have brought her to her knees. Yes, she would have gladly cut off her right hand in order to channel the immense pain from her heart to somewhere else, _anywhere_ else.

As she got up and started to get ready for another long and exhausting day at work, Monica wished that she could pray for the strength to get through it. She was scheduled for nearly twelve hours today because she was working her own shift and also covering for another employee who was out with the flu and she wasn't looking forward to it. She was not used to being less than perfect at anything she tried and 'less than perfect' was an understatement to describe the way she was performing at work. Jason was being extremely patient with her but she could see the frustration on his face too. He had told her before that most people begin picking it up and doing great within the first week or two and it had been nearly three months for her and she still hadn't quite got the hang of making the drinks or taking the orders properly. At the register, she always had to bite her tongue to keep herself from snapping at people when they ordered ridiculous nonsense like 'decaf triple Grande, 1 pump vanilla, ½ pump mocha, nonfat, extra hot, extra foam, 6 Splenda latte' and similar monstrosities. It was hard enough to _take_ the order down correctly, let alone prepare the beverage in question. She usually left after her shift close to tears and so exhausted that she could hardly see straight. The only good thing that was coming of this job was that fact that she was usually so mentally worn out that she did not have the time to dwell on Andrew and that was, at least for now, welcoming.

* * *

_Three months_, Andrew thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath to steady his heart. Three months today since being separated from Monica and just under that since learning that she had chosen to become human. Andrew had had to fight with himself every day to keep from doing the same thing. He had promised her that he would try and find her, and he meant to follow through on that promise no matter what he had to do, no matter how long it took. He knew that if he fell, he would lose any chance of seeing her again. He knew that trying to find out where she was would be next to impossible unless he stayed as he was, at least for the time being, and that it would take a bit of scheming on his part. At this point, however, he didn't care _what_ he had to do. He did not need to be told that she was falling apart, and falling fast, so he spent his Tess-free time trying to devise a plan. He did not feel good in the least about going behind her back, about planning to purposely deceive her, but he knew of no other way. Upon hearing what Monica had done, after the initial numbness and shock had worn off, he had all but begged Tess to let him go to her, but she had refused of course, and continued to claim that she didn't know of Monica's whereabouts anyway.

Andrew had only been on a handful of assignments in the last few months, all of them very tame and in his opinion, extremely unfulfilling, though he hated to think that of his work as he knew that even the littlest assignments and smallest problems mattered to the Father. He had yet to be allowed to go on a solo assignment or to return Home and that was his goal for the near future. He needed Tess to regain trust in him again though, and he had no idea how long that would take. None of his recent assignments had lasted longer than a day and he knew that for his plan to work, he would have to be apart from Tess for at least that long, if not for a few days. He would have to get to the point where she was not checking in on him every day as she was now.

He wanted desperately to have some time to talk with Adam. He knew that Adam, his oldest friend and confidant, would be able to counsel him on this matter. Though Adam had not experienced anything of the sort, Andrew knew that he would have some wisdom and advice for him. At the very least, Adam would provide an open ear to listen and Andrew was counting on that. Adam and Andrew were brothers in the truest sense of the word and Andrew was confident that when he explained his situation and told him what Monica had done, if he wasn't already aware, Adam would not hesitate a second in trying to help him find her. Though they had grown apart over the years, Adam and Monica had once been extremely close and Andrew knew that there was a special place in his heart for the little Irish angel. Andrew hoped beyond hope that Adam would not refuse his plea. He was counting on his cooperation for the plan to succeed.

Andrew figured it would be a while yet before Tess would trust him enough to let him go on his own, but he was already hinting to her that he was ready, _really_ ready to start working on his own again. He had ceased giving her any kind of attitude, was being almost sweet to her again, and hadn't complained about anything in weeks. On the one hand, he felt slightly guilty about the fact that his shift in behavior was just a façade, but on the other hand, and as much as he would have liked to pretend that he didn't care, he knew that him being in a constant foul mood and always having something snarky to say was hurting her too. As much pain as being away from Monica caused Andrew, he knew it was difficult on Tess to have lost her as well. The resentment that he felt towards her did not erase the simple fact that she was in pain from all this too, although it had taken him awhile to convince himself of that. Being angry with Tess did nothing but put even more strain on the situation and by now, Andrew was well aware that this was not her fault. It had taken enormous effort on his part, but he had succeeded in trying to put his negative feelings towards her behind him in order to regain her trust. Her trust was what he needed before he could do anything else, and if he had to be a little untruthful to get it, then so be it.

* * *

Several hours later, as the afternoon was fading into evening, Jason was sitting at his desk flipping through some un-done paperwork when Monica hurried back to the store room looking utterly distraught, an angry red burn quickly blistering on her right forearm. He jumped up from his chair, already reaching for the Burn Care Kit and met her halfway across the room. This was not the first time that he had had to take care of a nasty burn for her. He could see it in her eyes that she was embarrassed with the fact that she was not learning as quickly as the others and that she often made mistakes, some of them ending in personal injury.

"What happened?" He asked cautiously. She looked up at him with tears of frustration glistening in her eyes and her lower lip trembling slightly.

"I dropped a cup of hot water and it spilled on me," she admitted sheepishly, raising her un-afflicted hand to wipe angrily at her eyes, "it's not even busy out there, and I don't know what happened to me, my mind must be somewhere else …"

Monica was not being entirely truthful about that last part, and she was not aware of the fact that Jason was picking up on it. She was concentrating so hard on work in an effort to block out unwanted thoughts that she was almost trying too hard to do well and it was backfiring. He had been more than patient with her and was holding out hope that she would eventually get the hang of things, even if she had given up on doing well. Jason was still concerned about her situation and he had kept himself from bringing up the subject of her personal life for a long while. He was still dying to know who she really was, where she had come from, and who or what had hurt her so badly. But he didn't think it was the right time to ask her, not when she was already having such a hard time adjusting. He did not want to be the cause of more pain in her life.

"You don't have to be perfect you know," he began casually as he started to clean her burn with an antiseptic spray, "everyone makes mistakes, it's all part of the learning process. When I first started as a barista, I was hopeless. I made more mistakes than I care to admit, far more than you, if you can believe that. And look at me now, I'm the manager of a store. Just because you're not the fastest learner, or a perfect barista, does not mean that you can't do well with this someday and it certainly doesn't mean that I'm going to give up on you. So do me a favor and give yourself a little more credit for trying. Anybody who watches you can see that you're working your little ass off," he said with a grin. "Why don't you stay back here and take a break for a while? You definitely deserve it after today." It was nearing the end of her shift anyhow and Jason did not mind cutting her some much needed slack.

Monica could not return his smile, but she nodded in response to his question and thanked him for taking care of her yet again. Making mistake after mistake was not something she was used to and there was no way to explain that to Jason. She would just have to suck it up and continue to push through the frustration. She did not have a choice in the matter … it was about survival now.

She sat in the backroom with Jason for close to an hour more, making a genuine effort to hold a conversation with him, but all the while, she just wished to be alone. He finally told her to go ahead and go home, that she had been there long enough and he would see her in the morning. She thanked him again for treating her burn and for being so patient with her, but he would not accept the thanks for either thing, insisting that it was his pleasure to help her, no matter what she needed. It was no use arguing with him about it, so she gave up and bade him farewell.

Monica heaved a great sigh of relief as she pushed through the door to leave, the thought about what she was about to do oddly comforting. As she walked the short distance to her apartment, she turned the idea over and over in her mind, the same idea she'd been pondering all day since she first thought of it earlier that morning, the same idea that had no doubt been the cause of her numerous mishaps at work. She wasn't sure when exactly she had decided to act on this idea, but she was determined to go through with it and was not going to back out now, even though the thought of it made her feel a little sick to her stomach.

She was done, tired of trying to deal with this unbearable pain in a normal fashion. It wasn't working, at all, and she was just so completely over it. She had tried for three long months and she couldn't do it any longer. She was dead set on finding another way. Her legs shook as she climbed the stairs to her floor, her hands trembling as she fumbled with her key. Inside her apartment it was dark, the only light coming from the moon filtering in softly through the blinds of her only window. She did not turn on the lights. She did not want to see, afraid that if she was able to see, she wouldn't make herself do it. She crossed to the kitchen and rummaged quickly through the drawer to the right of the stove, found what she was looking for, and closed it again.

She gripped the object so tightly in her right hand that she began to lose feeling in her fingers almost immediately. Her heartbeat began to speed up and unwanted tears began welling in her eyes … the moment that she had been waiting for all day long had finally arrived and she could put it off no longer. She wavered slightly and had to grip the counter for support, had to remind herself to breathe. The last thing she saw before squeezing her eyes shut was the flash of the blade in the moonlight and it took every ounce of self-control she had to keep from screaming out as the knife slashed through the soft flesh of her left forearm.

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

_**Hey everyone! I hope this update, as always, finds you all well! I'm happy to be updating again so soon, I've had a bit of free time lately. I'm going to put a warning up again here – this chapter definitely continues with the intensity, even more so than the last. So just be aware. I hope you enjoy it!!**_

_**-Ang **_

* * *

_**5 Months Later**_

"Well done, Andrew. I really think you're ready to go out alone."

Andrew had thought he would never hear those words and the shock of finally hearing them from Tess nearly knocked him breathless. He displayed the correct emotions, and said the right words of enthusiasm for her sake, but on the inside, he was nearly erupting. He was astonished at the fact that he kept himself from shouting out with joy. He did not think that Tess would understand or appreciate an exclamation from his just now because first, it would be highly unlike him to do such a thing and second, because it was slightly inappropriate for this particular news. Furthermore, for him to be excited about _anything_ these days would probably seem odd to Tess, and being questioned by her was the last thing he wanted.

_This is it_, he thought to himself, a private triumph building within him that he could hardly contain. Andrew had been working hard on regaining Tess's trust and although it had taken several months longer than he had hoped, he had finally done it. She was letting him go solo. After five long months of constant effort on his part, _she was letting him go solo_. This was extremely good news to him because it meant that he could finally begin to work on locating Monica, which was the only thing he cared about. For the first time in a long while, he was beginning to feel a smidge of hope.

He was growing weary of putting on a show for Tess and he was looking forward to some time alone, when he wouldn't have to pretend to be well and happy, to finally come to terms with everything that had happened eight months ago. Andrew couldn't believe that it had only been that long … every day away from Monica felt like an eternity, and it was almost unfathomable to him that it had been two hundred and forty-three days since he had last looked into her beautiful maple colored eyes, last held her in his arms, since he'd kissed her goodbye … he had to stop himself, physically shake his head to push the images of her away, or else he really would not be able to keep himself from breaking down and he didn't want that, not with Tess still in close proximity. He had been trying so hard to keep his composure around her that he hadn't had any time to just _deal_ with the crippling emotions that boiled just beneath the surface of his fake contentment and false enthusiasm for work. He was starting to feel extremely guilty about it, for he knew in his heart that he was not doing the right thing. On the one hand, working did provide a distraction for his thoughts, but the fact that he was only doing it happily because he had an ulterior motive was a little alarming. Not enough to keep him from doing it, obviously, but enough to raise a red flag. He knew what he was doing wasn't good, and that there would probably be consequences for it down the road, but he refused to think about that. He _would_ find her, and he _would not_ lose her again when he did, if it was the last thing on this earth that he did.

Andrew breathed a great sigh, not of relief, but of unease and apprehension at the task that lay before him, not doubting in the least that it would be difficult if not close to impossible. He tried not to dwell on how daunting trying to find her would be. There were more than a million different places she could be and locating her would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack, quite literally. If she had still been in a celestial form, it might have been slightly easier due to the fact that angels could feel each other's presence and sense when another was near, but he didn't have that luck on his side. If he could get in touch with Adam and he had help from him, and anyone else who was willing, he might have a fighting chance, or so he hoped. He was convinced that Adam would help, if not for Andrew's own sake, surely for Monica's. Before he could get his hopes up though, he needed to track Adam down, which might be difficult depending on what he was up to. As far as Andrew knew, he was still working as an Angel of Death and so would not be tied up with lengthy assignments, but would be darting to and from Heaven quite frequently, which might make it hard for Andrew to pinpoint him. All the same, he would give it his best shot.

Andrew's thoughts were interrupted by Tess, who cleared her throat and said,

"Angel Boy, would you care to join the class?" Her tone was playful, not annoyed, but Andrew still had to force a smile.

"I'm sorry Tess, I was just thinking about how great this news is, that's all."

Tess regarded him warmly and stepped forward to give him a motherly hug,

"Alright well, I better get going," she said. She paused for a moment and stepped back slightly so that she could look directly in his face, "Andrew … I just want to say that I'm really very proud of you. I know that these last eight months have been the most difficult of your existence so far, and that you've worked very hard to overcome this. Doing the right thing is not always the easiest thing to do, but you know what? Eventually, things get better and you're proof positive of that. Keep your head up, keep moving forward. That's all you can do."

Andrew felt sick at her words. He wanted nothing more than to be honest with her, but he knew that he couldn't have it both ways. He compared his current feelings to an alcoholic who's unwilling to recover. The alcoholic hates going through rehabilitation, but he puts his best foot forward in order to speed the process of release up. He says the right words, makes the proper progress in therapy, but it's all a façade. He does well to get out so that he can drink again. He is not cured; in fact, he is worse upon leaving rehab. It was a fierce cycle of manipulation, and Andrew was quite ashamed of deceiving Tess in this way. But what could he do?

"Thank you, Tess. It means a lot that you trust me again," he lied through his teeth, seeing the look of pride on her face, and wishing he were dead, "I won't let you down."

"That makes me very happy, Andrew. You are more than capable of working alone and I think it's high-time that you have the privilege again. I won't see you very much anymore, I think the Father has me assigned to a brand new caseworker and Lord knows that will keep me busy! You remember how Mon—" but she caught herself before she said Monica's name, not missing the dark look that quickly crossed Andrew's features and disappeared almost as fast.

"I'm sorry, I know you miss her," Tess said sadly and then hurriedly changed the subject, "I'm sure I'll see you around, I don't think it's necessary for me to check in on you too often. Feel free to keep the apartment for when you stay on Earth, otherwise, you're free to go Home if you'd like."

She smiled at him once more and disappeared. Andrew let out a noise that was something between a sigh and a groan and dropped back to the couch heavily. He was tempted to immediately begin his search for Adam, but he knew that he needed to take this slowly. Running around blind, like a chicken with its head cut off, was not a smart move. He needed to thoroughly convince everyone that he was back to "normal." He could not risk raising suspicion from anyone who might try to thwart his efforts, like Tess, or worse, Sam. Even thinking the Angel of Angel's name brought a nasty taste into Andrew's mouth, sure that he had been awful to Monica and was primarily the cause of her fall. He _definitely_ didn't want Sam catching wind of his plans.

After a few moments taken to regain his composure once more, Andrew felt ready to go Home. The knowledge that he was now essentially free to do as he pleased, between assignments of course, was comforting. That alone made him feel one step closer to finding Monica, though he knew he had a great many steps ahead of him. As he made ready to leave Earth for the first time in over eight months, he whispered aloud the words that he wished dearly that she could, wherever she was, hear for herself,

"Hold on, Baby … I'm coming."

* * *

Another week, another month had gone and Monica was nearing what she thought to be her breaking point. She was sure that she was beginning to lose her mind, and positive that she'd lost her soul months before. She found it hard to believe that just eight months ago, a blink of an eye in an angel's existence, she was happy. She turned the word _happy_ over and over in her head, trying to remember what that particular emotion felt like, but came up with nothing. She felt so far removed from her former self, that the idea of being happy was almost laughable.

She sat in her apartment after another long day at work, numb and exhausted beyond comprehension. She closed her eyes and as her thoughts wandered, the fingers of her right hand traced a line up her left arm, bumping along the rough scars from her wrist to above the crook of her elbow and back again. She often did this subconsciously, as though she needed to feel the scars from the cuts to make sure that they were still there, that she'd really made them. She had long since abandoned her once nightly ritual of cutting herself. She had quickly grown immune to the rush of adrenaline that it brought her and was no longer satisfied with the pain from the blade ripping through her delicate skin. It had worked to deaden her emotional pain at first, but the crushing weight of the despair that she had been trying to run away from had caught up to her. Because of this, she'd had to find other ways to attempt to control the never-ending pain.

Going days at a time on nothing but alcohol mixed with purposely throwing up when she did eat was her newest and favorite coping mechanism thus far. She quite enjoyed the feeling of denying herself that which she knew she needed to survive in this human body. She ate just enough to subsist, getting through most workdays on bits of fruit and bread and cup after cup of black coffee. The feeling of emptiness in her stomach rivaled the emptiness in her heart and, for the moment at least, it was working to keep her thoughts away from Andrew. The simple fact that she was eating nowhere near enough meant that she could think of little else but food. When her hunger was so great that she couldn't resist, eating was usually and promptly followed by throwing it right back up. Her throat was constantly sore from fingers with sharp fingernails shoved too hastily and roughly to the gag spot. But even this was quickly losing its effectiveness. In all her anger, hurt, and confusion in the last months, Monica had waged an all out war against her already emotionally fragile human body, and she was winning. If she wasn't starving herself or purging food, drinking alcohol to the point of unconsciousness, or slicing up her arms, she had no choice but to think of Andrew and those thoughts were just too painful to deal with.

Alarmingly, she found herself thinking of suicide often. She knew that if she kept moving in the direction she was going, she would not be able to survive it, and a strong part of her wondered if she even wanted to. She had lost Andrew and lost herself … she had nothing to live for anyway. But, at least for the time being, she was far too afraid to think of what might happen to her if her human form _did_ die to seriously consider it. She held on to it in the back of her mind though, her one last option if she just couldn't take it anymore, a sure way to rid herself of the pain once and for all.

Monica sat up on her bed and opened her eyes, giving them time to adjust to the darkness before moving. She crossed the room slowly and came to the old wooden desk that was situated in the far right corner of the shabby little apartment. She opened the only drawer and removed three items before returning to her bed and flicking on the little lamp on her bedside table. In the glow cast by the lamp, she laid out the items before her; two baggies - one filled with pills, the other filled with a dense white powder - and a syringe. She'd bought the stuff off a neighborhood drug dealer weeks ago but had not had the guts to do anything with it until now. He had shown her how to load the syringe, how much to put in, the angle in which to stick, everything she needed to know in order to 'shoot up' properly, as he had said.

She pinched a bit of powder from the baggie, a dangerous mix of cocaine and heroin, and loaded her syringe to just under the amount that he'd told her would make her "forget things but still be alive in the morning." She was banking on the fact that he had been honest with her about the effects of the two drugs mixed together. She took a deep breath and slipped the needle of the syringe into the vein at the crook of her arm. She didn't even flinch. The stick of the needle was nothing compared to the cut from a knife.

"_Please_," she whispered urgently to the syringe as she pushed the substance slowly into her bloodstream, "make me forget him …"

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

_**Hi everyone! :) **_

_**I can't believe it's been nearly a year since I've updated last, how awful of me. I'm so sorry! I've said it a million times before, but I hope you haven't given up on me just yet. I promise, this story WILL get finished, come hell or high water! ;)**_

_**-A**_

* * *

"_Monica?"_

_His voice took her by surprise and, had she been awake, she was sure it would have knocked her breathless. Even in sleep, the sound of her name coming from him ripped through her like a lightning bolt, burning from the inside out. She was almost afraid to answer, afraid that if she opened her mouth to respond, he would disappear and she would wake up._

"_Andrew …" She closed her eyes, held her breath, and waited to be yanked from the dream like always. One second passed, then two … she was still asleep, she was certain. She opened her eyes slowly, cautiously, preparing herself for the fact that he might not still be standing there, as was very often the case._

_But he was._

"_Monica," Dream Andrew repeated, his voice laced with sadness, "please don't cry." _

_She sucked in a quick, startled breath and lifted her hand to her face to feel the hot, wet tears that she hadn't even realized were there until that moment._ _She hadn't expected this and the pain that it ignited in her chest was very nearly too much for her fragile heart to withstand. Night after night she dreamt of him, try as she might to escape it, and never had he spoken to her before. In the beginning, she used to try and talk to him, but that always proved to cause her to wake before she wanted to. It was always the same – he sat in the same corner, in the same chair, never speaking and never moving. Just watching her. Sometimes, she managed to get a little closer to him but she hadn't been able to touch him since the first night. These dreams were a bit unsettling in that she was so completely aware of the fact that she was asleep and dreaming, though she felt at times that they were so much more intense and real than just a simple illusion that her sleeping mind produced. But something was different now. _

_Hours later, or perhaps it was only moments, Dream Andrew rose from his chair in the corner and crossed the small room purposefully, coming to a stop at the side of her bed. Monica's eyes were glued to him as she scrambled to sit up and she pulled her knees up to her chest to make room for him to sit down beside her, not daring to hope that he actually would. For a moment, neither of them moved and Monica felt herself holding her breath in anticipation of losing this moment too quickly all over again. And then he sat down lightly, just inches from her, and it took every ounce of strength in her being to keep from launching herself at him. _

_With a racing heart and a fierce and desperate curiosity, she reached her hand out slowly, tentatively, again not daring for a moment to believe that she could touch him. In the moment before her fingers brushed lightly against his cheek, her hand seemed to stay suspended in mid-air, motionless, as if of its own accord, like it knew what the consequence of such an action could bring, and there was an ever slight hesitation. But the very real feeling of his warm skin beneath her fingers removed the fear that he would disappear as if he'd never been there before she could take another breath, and she let the breath she'd been holding with a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and sob. After another long moment - somehow knowing that he would understand all the many questions behind the single word - she asked, _

"_Why?" _

_Why she dreamt of him every night, why for so long she couldn't touch him and now she could, why he never spoke before this night, what all of it meant ... Dream Andrew's eyes seemed to bore into her own intently before he replied. _

"_You know you're dreaming," he said softly, "I'm not really here."_

_Of course she knew that. Of course she knew that she was dreaming … she'd had the same dream every night for more months than she could count. It was like a sick joke almost that even in sleep, she couldn't catch a break. No matter what she did, she couldn't escape this nightly torture. Far from comforting, these dreams did nothing but brutally remind her of everything that she'd lost and tonight, after eight miserably long months, she'd had enough._

"_Then please, go away … I can't do this anymore ..." she whispered, tearing her eyes away from his and falling back against her pillow, covering her face with her shaking hands and succumbing once again to the seemingly endless flow of tears. Again, an immeasurable amount of time went by before Monica found the strength to open her heavy eyes and when she did, Dream Andrew was no longer beside her, but back in the corner chair across the room. She hadn't even felt him move. _

_She ignored the sharp jab of pain to her heart at the sudden distance between them, as she had essentially ordered him away from her side, and attempted to concentrate on waking herself up. In the drug-induced, nearly coma-like state of unconsciousness that her mind fell victim to every night, it was no easy task. _

"_Monica, you have to stop doing this." _

_Dream Andrew's voice seemed to float to her from the corner, with the sort of echoing sound that generally accompanied a soft golden glow and vaguely reminded her of the many thousands of times that she'd once revealed herself as an angel to an assignment. _

"_You have to stop hurting yourself like this ..."_

Usually, she awoke with a painful start and was thrown suddenly and strongly into reality when reality was the very last thing that she wanted, and this morning was no different. Worse even, because she could still hear those words echoing in her mind, still feel his skin under her touch, could still see the shape of him reflecting warmly in the back of her closed eyelids as if he'd really been there just moments before. The nearly tangible aura of him in the room lingered just enough to make her question her level of wakefulness, but it took merely a quick glance to the corner of the room to confirm what she already knew. Perhaps instead of wakefulness, it was her sanity that she should have been questioning.

Suddenly unable to stand it, unable to physically restrain herself from retaliating against this new flavor of misery, she yanked the bedside lamp that had been left on all night roughly from the table by her bed and threw it across the room. At the precise second that the porcelain base shattered against the wall, she let out a guttural cry of distress, pain, hopelessness, all of the things she felt at once into one long, nearly bloodcurdling shriek.

It was all just finally _too much_ for her to deal with, too much after such a long struggle, and it was coming to a head at last. Too deep, too dark, too hurt for too long and it was in that moment that she knew. For weeks she'd been able to think of little else, the thoughts all-consuming, and finally Monica knew that she couldn't take another day, another night living in this hell that had been her miserable existence for nearly a year. And not only that she couldn't do it, but that she _wouldn't_. The concept of dying, of actually ending her own life, was somehow much more manageable now than the prospect of surviving another twenty-four hours through it. Even the huge and alarming uncertainty of what would happen to her when she carried out her plan wasn't enough to sway her decision in the opposite direction.

Her mind was made up and she was oddly at peace with the knowledge that it would all be over soon, one way or another.

* * *

The Heavenly breeze that floated lazily through the richly autumn colored leaves of the big fir tree next to the choir chapel should have and would have been comforting to any other angel of God, but Andrew was in another world and not even that could begin to touch the foreboding sense of anxiety that was building within him. He sat down onto the bench by the chapel door like a stone sinking into water to wait, as he had high hopes to run into Adam today. By word of mouth, he'd learned that Adam had been frequenting the chapel in between assignments for a reprieve and so, because he had no assignments of his own to speak of for the next little stretch of time, Andrew planned to wait until he came. To say that he was weary would be an understatement for Andrew. Over the last few weeks, he had not only been diligently working a full case-load of assignments, but also searching relentlessly for Adam with anticipation that the help he sought from him would be generously received. If nothing else, Andrew fervently hoped that he would point him in the right direction, and at the very least, be the friend that he knew him to be and listen without passing judgements.

Since there existed no concept of time in Heaven, Andrew had no clue as to how long he waited on the bench, but the feeling of relief that flooded through him when Adam finally approached was such that he might have waited all day. Even from several hundred feet away still, Andrew could clearly see that Adam's expression was troubled and suddenly, the chill of apprehension that he'd felt in his heart the last few weeks spiked intensely. The way that Adam walked purposefully toward him was unsettling as well, though he tried not to show any of these emotions on his face. Instead, he plastered on a small smile and continued to wait.

"Andrew," Adam called out when he was much nearer, "It's good to see you old friend." Closing the now short distance between them, Andrew stepped forward and returned the brotherly embrace before replying with his own greeting.

"It's been too long, Adam. How've you been?" Andrew paused before asking the next question, "You look like you have something on your mind. Tough assignment?" He could only assume that a previous assignment was what was troubling Adam, as they'd both had their fair share of them in the past, and he could recognize the look anywhere.

"Actually, yes. It's going to be tough," Adam said quietly, averting his eyes from Andrew's and pausing, looking beyond him to the horizon, as if he was silently drawing strength from the beauty of their surroundings, before looking back. "Andrew, I … I've just come from meeting with Tess and Sam."

There was a beat of silence and Andrew wasn't exactly sure that he'd heard Adam correctly. If he had heard right, it didn't sound like the typical lighthearted discussion that old friends generally shared when they'd been apart for a while. He shook his head and tried to make sense of this unexpected news.

"Hold on, you did … what?" Andrew was definitely throughly confused. "Adam, I've been looking for you for weeks, what do you mean _you_ came to find _me_? I don't understand …. and what _about_ Tess and Sam?"

Adam took a moment to gather his bearings and to keep his emotions in check. Having just found out himself, he had no idea how to come up with the appropriate words, as if there even were an acceptable way to say what he needed to say. He could hardly even believe it himself, but didn't question the severity of the situation at hand for one minute after Tess had sought him out and clued him in and Sam had confirmed it all.

"Well, to answer one of your questions," Adam began hesitantly after a long moment of silence, "The angels in charge of all of us are a lot smarter than they seem sometimes. Tess has known all along what you were planning, or she suspected it at least, don't ask me how. Divine intelligence, I'm sure."

Adam let those words sink in, knowing that Andrew would be taken aback by them and knowing also that what he would say next would make him forget those particular words instantly. The pause, however, was as much for his own sake as Andrew's. He took a steadying breath and plunged ahead, for fear that if he didn't start now, he'd never be able to get it all out.

"Anyway … Tess came to me a few weeks ago and told me to look out for you, that you might come asking for my help. She explained the situation to me, from the very beginning, and told me about the … separation. How you'd finally after eight months, been taken off probation and were allowed to work by yourself again. How she suspected that you might try and find her the moment you weren't being watched all the time." Adam was careful not to say her name or go into too much detail just yet. He could already see the affect that his words was having on his friend and he hated that the very worst was still to come.

"She cautioned me against helping you, against getting myself too involved. She didn't want me to get in trouble too, I guess. But I couldn't just do nothing, not now that I knew what was going on. She's my friend too," Adam said sadly, once again hesitating before continuing, bracing himself for what he would say next, "and so I asked if it would be alright for me to check in on her, not visibly of course, but just to see if she was alright. For a long time, they said no. I'm not entirely sure that they trusted me not to say or do anything besides observe. They figured I would tell you if I knew where she was. At this point, Tess was fairly certain that you were looking for me to try and do just that. It was Tess who finally convinced Sam that it wouldn't hurt anything or anyone if I checked in on her occasionally, if I didn't let it interfere with my cases."

At that, Andrew again lowered himself back onto the bench, for it was too much all at once and he could no longer find it in him to remain standing. He didn't know what to think, how to process this information, what to say in return … it was all so surprising and a blur of words that made no sense, that made him want to yell and cry and strangle Adam all at the same time.

"Okay ..." Andrew started, his voice not much more than a whisper, "so you know where Monica is. And you already knew that I was looking for you, for your help. Because Tess somehow figured it out. And … you've been seeing her, all this time … is that what you're trying to tell me right now? Is that _all_ you're trying to tell me?"

Andrew did what he could to keep his tone even and level, to not allow the myriad of emotions that he was feeling to be heard through his voice, though he was sure that his face was telling a different story entirely. He closed his eyes to ward off the undesirable tears, not wanting to give Adam too much insight into just how painful this was to hear.

"Andrew, it really isn't like that," Adam tried to explain quickly, "It's not like she even knows, I've been going when she's asleep. They were adamant that I not reveal myself to her at all, that was the condition of me being allowed to go." And then Adam knew that he was running out of time before he would have to say the rest, before Andrew could get too upset and walk away,

"Andrew, she's … not in a good place."

Andrew refused to look back at Adam, too afraid that he would lose control over his sudden anger and not be able to continue this conversation in a civilized manner, and he was slowly beginning to realize that the apprehension that he felt in his heart might very well be due to what Adam was leading up to saying.

"Of course she isn't in a good place! How could she possibly be _in a_ _good place_? I already KNOW that, I can _feel_ it. Don't tell me that's all you came to say! I figured that one out on my own, months ago!" Andrew responded hotly, "So really, if that's all, please just go. You're obviously in no position to help."

"I wish that was all, but unfortunately … that's the better half of the news," Adam replied softly, fighting to keep his expression calm, "You know I don't do the same kind of work that you do, even though we're both technically Angels of Death. I very rarely spend time working on cases, and when I'm called, it's usually for the privilege of transport only ..."

This time, Adam didn't pause for Andrew's benefit, but to once again gather the strength to say what he had to. Never in several centuries of existence could he ever have imagined delivering news such as this, and it was overwhelming to try and deliver it when he knew that it would most-likely destroy the angel whom he'd considered a brother for more than a few of those centuries.

"Andrew … my next assignment _is_ Monica."


	18. Chapter 18

_**Hi everyone. As usual, this chapter was particularly difficult for me to get through, but I've finally managed it. I've missed you all a ton and as always, I'm hoping this update finds you all happy and well.  
**_**_  
_**

_**R.I.P John :'(**_

_**-Ang**_

* * *

Andrew was fairly certain that words as incomprehensibly painful as these had never before been spoken to him in the entirety of his existence. To put into words what he felt would have been impossible, for he was positive that no angel had ever been in such agony, and the range of emotions was large … everything from hurt, to betrayal, anger, nearly unbearable sadness, and incredible disbelief. He closed his eyes against the stunning magnitude of this news and all that it meant, and focused on trying to remain upright.

"She's … dying?" He managed to croak through the suffocating lump in his throat, after several long moments of horrible silence, "I don't understand … how? _Why_?"

Adam didn't know what to say. His own emotions were running wild, but he didn't dare to even compare what he felt to what he knew was happening inside Andrew's head and heart. Adam could plainly see the pain on his face and he hated himself for having to be the one to deliver this horrific news, and even more-so for being the Angel of Death called for the job. He hoped that subject didn't come up again right away; Adam didn't want another reason for Andrew to resent them all.

"Not yet," Adam said softly, "But very soon, we think ..." He trailed off uncertainly, not sure if he should go into more lurid details or keep them to himself for the time being. He didn't want Andrew to have to endure anymore than absolutely necessary, but he also knew that he would find out soon enough anyway. He didn't know whether telling him just how it would happen was the best way to prepare him for what was coming or not. Then again, there really was no way to prepare for something like this, and that thought was what encouraged Adam to continue,

"We aren't exactly sure when, actually. Tess is planning an intervention as we speak and I'll be waiting in the wings if she's not … successful."

_An intervention? _And then Andrew somehow knew. His head swirled with simultaneous nausea and realization, and as if it were even possible, the crushing pain in his chest seemed to intensify a hundred fold and it was all he could do to not fall to his knees from the weight of it. Again, he was overcome with the desire to scream, shout, hit someone, break something … but he couldn't bring himself to move. It was another long stretch of time, where he simply stared grief-stricken into the distance, before he could force himself to respond to Adam.

"She's going to kill herself."

It wasn't a question, but a soft statement of understanding. When Adam nodded in confirmation, Andrew finally stopped fighting against the tears threatening to fall from his heavy eyes, tears that he'd been holding in since the beginning. He generally was not the one to show emotion on the outside, but this was a time that he didn't physically possess the strength to stop it, and so he just let them run. This was an unexpected and unfathomable turn of events, and Andrew didn't know what to do, say, or think. He'd dealt with more than a few suicide cases in his time as an Angel of Death and the thought of Monica being driven to do such a thing was unbearably painful. Andrew wanted so very badly to believe that this conclusion was faulty, that she couldn't possibly want to do such a thing, but his hope for that was miniscule. He couldn't imagine Adam going to such great lengths to notify him, when he wasn't supposed to have any contact with her whatsoever, if the situation wasn't so dire. Greater even that he was being permitted to know by the very people who had seen to it that they were separated in the first place. That alone spoke volumes to Andrew.

"Andrew ..." Adam began, still completely at a loss for the right words to say, " to say that she just didn't adjust well would be an understatement. She didn't adjust _at all_ – to being away from you, to being human, nothing. She's only a shell of who she used to be and from what I've seen … I honestly don't believe there's much sense in hoping that she changes her mind. Tess is going to try, but ..."

Once again, Andrew didn't know what to do or say. This was not a conversation that he could have ever imagined having and it was the most unbelievable and most devastating all wrapped up into one. His heart was completely shattered, at least that much he knew for certain. At the same time that he couldn't _not_ listen, he couldn't imagine hearing another word of it.

"Adam, I can't hear anymore of this," he responded finally, feeling physically ill with a sorrow that seemed to reach into his very bones, "I just can't. All of this … it's too much. I get it. I'm too late. I didn't try hard enough to find her like I promised her I would and she's going to _kill herself_ because she can't handle it anymore and you're standing here telling me that you don't think there's any way to save her now. I can't take ... another word."

"Andrew, don't start blaming yourself for her choice, you know you couldn't have known that things would turn this way. This isn't your fault. How many times have you had to come to terms with an assignment ending badly -" but before Adam could finish his thought, Andrew interrupted him coldly, his emotions rearing strongly again,

"Don't you dare try to compare this to a case, Adam. It's not even close to the same thing and you know it. It isn't just some assignment that I can get over losing," he said grievously, "it's _Monica_."

"I'm sorry," Adam responded heavily, "I didn't mean it that way. But blaming yourself won't do any good. You can't possibly do anything to help her like that, and we might be too late anyway,"he said soberly. Adam could empathize with Andrew deeply; Monica was one of his dearest friends too. But he knew that he couldn't even begin to imagine the pain that this was causing him right now. The uncertainty of the very near future was enough to set any angel on edge and Adam was certain that Andrew was hurting on a level that nobody could reach.

As painful and unsettling as this news was, Andrew couldn't honestly say that he was completely surprised. As an angel, Monica had always had a driven and passionate personality. When it came to assignments, she never did things half-way and she always committed one hundred percent of herself to the job she had to do. It only made sense to Andrew that those personality traits would carry over into humanity. But even through all that, he never once thought that he might have to lose her all over again. Being separated from her in the beginning had been hard enough. His plan to find her and make it right in any way that he could was all that kept him going on some days. He never stopped to consider that their separation could extend into eternity and that was suddenly a very real possibility.

"Adam," he asked quietly, "if she does die as a human, what happens next? Is she treated like a human or an angel?"

Adam furrowed his brows in thought and took a moment to ponder Andrew's question. He had wondered the answer to this question himself. Technically speaking, Monica was human by her own choice and it was Adam's gut feeling on the matter that she would be judged accordingly, without an exception made. He hoped that that might not be the case, but his hope was very small. He shook his head sadly and answered honestly,

"I don't know, Andrew. It's possible that the Father might make an exception and restore her angelic status when or if she dies … If she hadn't willingly become human and if she wasn't choosing to die now, then we might could hope for that, but I honestly don't know. There are consequences for the choices that we make, and angels can't always be the exception to the rule. I think you know that."

Andrew did know that and Adam's answer was the one he was expecting to get. He didn't much like it, but he could not deny the validity of what Adam said. It was a far from comforting thought to think of Monica going Home to live forever as a human. Angels and humans did not share the same part of Heaven and Andrew knew that it could very well mean that he wouldn't get the chance to ever see her again if she died as a human and wasn't allowed to be restored to her previous status as an angel.

"So, what do we do from here?" Andrew asked, taking a breath and bracing himself for Adam's answer. Surely he would be allowed to accompany Adam now and try to turn things around? "I'm coming with you, right?"

"Andrew ..." Adam began hesitantly, "You know I don't have the authority to either allow you come or make you stay. I can't stop you from following me, but I have a suggestion. Why don't you _ask_ if you can come?"

_Because I'm terrified to hear 'no'_, Andrew thought to himself woefully. But he knew that Adam was right. As much as he didn't like the idea, he already knew that he needed to ask the Father himself for permission to go and it was with a heavy heart and reeling mind that he began to pray like he never had before. All that he'd been carrying around inside him came pouring out like a river - doubting Him for so long, being dishonest with Tess, and everything in between. It was both painful and oddly comforting and with a pang of guilt, Andrew realized that it had been ages since he'd properly prayed or even acknowledged the Father in any way. Had his emotions not been already well on the surface, this surely would have done it. Over and over again, he asked for forgiveness and mercy, not daring to believe that He might actually grant the permission he so desperately sought.

"Please ..." Andrew whispered allowed, lifting his face from his hands, preparing for the moment when he would know the answer. It felt like an eternity had passed when finally the warmth that was 'yes' flooded his heart and were it not for the fact that the situation was still so precarious, he could have shouted with joy. Tears of relief threatened to pour from his eyes, but he had to remind himself that there was still very little to be happy about in that moment. The worst was still very likely to happen and that looming prospect could not be ignored.

Andrew turned to Adam and nodded, and Adam could instantly see the change in his friends eyes, though it was slight. Adam nodded back and motioned for Andrew to follow.

"Then let's go. We don't have any time to waste."

* * *

It was bitterly cold and windy as Monica made her way from work back to her apartment. Her day had been miserable, to put it lightly. It was nearly impossible to keep her mind from dwelling on her plans for the evening and she found it unbearable to be in close proximity with Jason, who seemed to sense that something was terribly wrong. He made it a point to hover around her, constantly asking if she was alright, if she needed anything, if she wasn't feeling well, if she needed to go home early. It made her feel sick to think of what she was about to do, but only because of the implications it would leave for Jason. He would probably be the one to realize first, and would be the one to find her when it was all done and over. He was her boss, neighbor, and only friend in the world after all. Her mind was made up one hundred percent, and she knew that in a few short hours, nothing would matter to her anyway. She shivered violently at the thought and pulled her too-thin jacket tighter around herself, growing more and more anxious as she approached the battered building that had been her home for the last year. She took steadying breaths in an effort to keep her heart from pounding too hard, but the effort was not calming in the least. Her very skin seemed to be on edge from the pure adrenaline that was beginning to flow through her veins, and as she ascended the stairs and made to unlock her door, it was all she could do to keep her limbs from shaking uncontrollably.

The moonlight that illuminated the tiny room was enough that Monica did not bother turning on the overhead light. She stepped gingerly around the pile of shattered porcelain and glass that had been a lamp that morning and made her way to the counter in her small kitchen, where she'd laid out all of her supplies. There were tablets neatly lined up in a row, small packets of powders in various shades of white, and a brand new syringe poised and ready, waiting for her like a loaded gun. Beside that was a half-empty bottle of dark colored alcohol and a small glass. She had a carefully constructed plan and she allowed herself a few seconds to go over it in her head before beginning.

First, it was one gulp of the dark liquor, then two, then she lost count. The burning taste of the alcohol didn't even phase her as it flowed down her throat and she only stopped when her vision became cloudy and her head began to swirl. The effect of so much in such a short time made her feel weak and sick, but somehow invincible and it gave her the courage to continue on to the next step of her plan. She picked up one of the small packets of powder and dumped its contents into a spoon, carefully mixing to the right consistency like a seasoned pro. She loaded the syringe to the line where she usually stopped, doubled the amount, and then tripled it just to be safe. She set the loaded syringe back onto the counter for safe keeping until she was ready for it and moved on to the row of pea-sized white tablets. It was as she was bringing the handful of pills to her mouth that a voice sliced the stagnant air and brought her to a startled stop.

"Monica?"

Monica closed her eyes against the tears that she hadn't even realized were running and mentally willed herself to remain standing. She was not entirely sure if what she heard had been a figment of her imagination, or if Tess really was in her apartment at that moment, but she didn't look to find out. Her hand, which had come to a halt in mid-air at the sound of her name, now felt like lead and it took a large effort to get the pills into her mouth. She was extremely nauseous from the alcohol now and dry-swallowing upwards of twenty tablets in addition to it was no easy task.

"Angel girl, stop … look at me, please? This is not the answer, you know that."

Tess's deep, soothing voice cut through the silence again but Monica did not look up. Somehow, she knew that the presence of her former supervisor was not a delusion and it was all she could do to keep from calling out to her. After all this time, the sound of her voice was like music to her ears. A part of her wanted to stop, take it back, run to Tess and let her make it all better … but the part of her that had hardened over the last year, that had already made up her mind would not allow it. She hadn't counted on the possibility that an angel would be sent to try and talk her out of what she was about to do and she wasn't prepared to deal with one, least of all Tess, but she realized that she should have known.

Still refusing to meet Tess's gaze, Monica grasped the loaded syringe and held it close to her, shielding it from view and staggered drunkenly towards her bed, but she'd only made it halfway there when her legs buckled weakly under her and she fell to her knees. It was then that she could no longer hold on to what little composure she had left. For a moment, she didn't even realize that the loud, wracking sobs were coming from her own mouth and they only intensified when she felt Tess's arms trying to lift her from the floor.

"Don't!" Monica said bitterly, wrenching away from Tess's touch as if it burned her skin, "leave me alone."

Tess didn't know what to do or say. Though she was coming into the situation fully informed, it was so much worse than she ever could have imagined and to see Monica like this, in the midst of a complete and total meltdown, was heartbreaking. Nothing could have prepared her for what she was witnessing now.

"Monica, baby ..." She tried again hesitantly, gently placing her hand on Monica's shoulder, "please talk to me. I want to understand, I want to help you."

"You _can't_," she snarled through her sobs, looking up finally to meet Tess's eyes, "You can't understand. And you know you can't stop me, so just _go_ ..." Monica's words, with her broken voice and even more broken spirit, sliced into Tess's heart like a knife. This was not the angel she knew and loved and it was plain to see now how deep the hurt really went and how much Monica was affected emotionally by current circumstances. The shear magnitude of her pain was evident to Tess by just looking at her; her physical condition alone was enough to raise several red flags. It was as if she was looking at a completely different person. Monica's once flowing and vibrant auburn hair was now dull and limp, framing her bony face and sharply contrasting her transparently pale complexion. Her human form had always been on the slighter side of average, but there was no denying that her frame was painfully thin now. Tess could plainly see her collarbones jutting out, could count every bone of her spine, and make out every rib through her worn shirt. It seemed that she couldn't possibly weigh more than eighty pounds. Every vein was visible beneath her yellowed skin and the warmth was all but gone from her chocolate colored eyes.

"I'm not just going to leave you alone Angel Girl," Tess said with a sad sigh, "so you better get that through your head right now." With that, she leaned over and practically scooped Monica off the floor, carrying her the rest of the way to her bed, and tried to arrange the sparse bedding around her in an effort to make her comfortable. "I'm so sorry baby ..."

"Oh are you?" Monica asked with a quiet laugh, though there was no humor behind it. "You want me to trust you now? You sold us out. You were the one that went to Sam and you were the one who just stood there and watched him take me away. But you're sorry? Well then, sure. That makes _everything_ better."

"Monica, I didn't think I had a choice in the matter, you know that I -"

"That you _what_? Had our best interests at heart? Is _this _what you wanted?" She shrieked, bubbling with an anger so strong that it frightened even her. She felt as if her head and chest could have exploded with the force of the loathing that she felt towards her former supervisor in that moment.

Tess was already shaking her head before Monica was even finished, "NO, what I _wanted_ was for you to _grow up, _stop acting like a child and realize that you can't always have everything you want! You have responsibilities and you have to pay the consequences for the choices that you make!"

"God … _DAMNIT_!" Monica bellowed, her voice cracking under the strain, "stop _saying_ that! You don't know _anything_. Do you really think that if given the choice, I would have _chosen_ to be in this mess? I can't just turn my feelings on and off like a light switch as you seem to think I can. How am I supposed to not miss him? How am I supposed to just be okay? Answer me _that_."

But Tess had no answers. She felt as if she was only beginning to scratch the surface of understanding what was going on inside of Monica's heart and with a pang of guilt, realized that it was all happening just a little too late. Looking back, it was easy to see how Monica felt betrayed by her actions and those of her own supervisor's. She could not deny the fact that the situation could have been handled worlds differently than it had. The sound of Monica's anguished and utterly heartbroken sobs was devastating and Tess couldn't help but to blame herself. If she hadn't jumped to conclusions, hadn't notified Sam, hadn't insisted that something be done … she could go on forever.

"Baby, for what it's worth … I _didn't_ mean for things to get this bad for you. No matter what you thought you felt, I should have stayed out of it and I'm sorry. It never should have been left up to me, and I'm so sorry for the pain that this whole situation has caused the both of you."

"Tess … it doesn't matter now," Monica replied sadly, shaking her head. After a long moment of silence, she added, "it's too late." She uncurled her fingers from around the slim syringe in her left hand and studied it intently, as if expecting it to move of its own accord. She could feel Tess's burning gaze and, again, it was all she could do to keep her breathing steady. The lethal dose of heroin needed only to be added to the mixture of alcohol and pills that she'd already consumed and her plan would be complete. "I just want it to be over."

"You really do love him that much," Tess said softly, and the fact that it wasn't a question didn't go unnoticed by Monica, who had the needle of the syringe ready at the vein in the crook of her arm.

"I love him _so_ much that it takes my breath away, even now," she whispered brokenly, "I would give anything _not_ to love him because it makes being away from him the worst pain I've ever felt. It's like he's my air and I can't breathe without him here. I just can't do it anymore. You have to know that if I could change that, I would."

"Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?" Tess asked pleadingly, unable to continue to ignore the fact that Monica was now just moments away from ending her own life.

But Monica just shook her head and before Tess could do or say anything else to try and stop her, she slipped the needle into the already bruised and scarred vein and watched with a displaced sense of peace as the liquified drug was pushed into her bloodstream. The effect was almost instantaneous. An incredible weakness spread over her like a thick blanket and very quickly it became an effort to even keep her eyes open.

"Please ..." she struggled to say through the thick fog, "tell him I'm sorry."

Just seconds later, she was slipping away into unconsciousness and it was with a final flutter of her eyelids that she wondered which Angel and Death would be sent to finish the job.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Hey everyone! I hope you all are well and enjoying the summer. I just wanted to say again that this chapter was pretty hard to write and it took several edits and rewrites to get to the point that I'm comfortable posting. This is true with pretty much every chapter and it's those of you that always review and leave nice comments that make me feel SO MUCH better about it all. I know, I'm my own worst critic and I should lighten up a bit, eh? :) But seriously, just wanted to give a heartfelt thanks to everyone for sticking with this story over the years. It means the world to me that you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing! **_

_**-Ang**_

* * *

It was very nearly more than Tess could bear, frozen in place, observing the steady but ragged rise and fall of Monica's chest. She didn't know how long it had been, or how much time remained, and she found herself fighting an immense internal battle. With an intensity that rocked her entire being, she fought against the desire to call for help to try and save Monica's waning life. As much as being witness to her little angel girl's anguish and efforts to defeat said anguish pained Tess, intervening was not something that she was permitted to do. No matter that Monica had once been an angel … she was human by choice and choosing to end her own life now - involving herself anymore would be defying the laws of human free will. Everything she knew and understood about free will was the last thing she wanted on her mind in this moment, but Tess could not ignore the reality of the situation. Though her heart was breaking and screaming out with a desire to do something, _anything_ ... Tess knew inside that she could do nothing but be present and wait as the consequence of Monica's choice unfolded. As an angel, she had never felt more powerless than in this moment in the entire span of her existence.

"Please, Father ..." Tess whispered to the heavy darkness, "I know that Your plan for her – for _them_ – is perfect and well thought out and nothing that I should ever question … but Lord give me strength and the wisdom to trust that right now because I don't know about this one."

* * *

Andrew was hardly breathing as he and Adam touched foot to ground only moments later, and it took another few moments for him to get his bearings and process just exactly _where_ they were. He looked around with confusion in his eyes, momentarily plagued with doubt that he was really being taken to Monica's side, for they stood only blocks away from the doors which led to the apartment that Andrew had occupied in Denver for his prolonged stay on Earth.

"Adam ..." Andrew questioned his friend, "I thought you said we had no time to waste? What are we doing _here_?" Adam just looked at Andrew blankly for a few seconds, not entirely sure what his friend meant.

"We're … meeting Tess at Monica's apartment, Andrew. That's her building right there," he said, pointing over Andrew's left shoulder at a run-down brownstone just feet from their location.

"I don't understand," Andrew began slowly, his confusion ever growing, "how long has she been here?"

"I don't know exactly … as many months as I've been visiting, it's been this same building. Why do you ask, don't you want to go in?" Adam questioned him, confused himself at the even darker shadow that seemed to cross over Andrew's features.

"I … of course, yeah ..." Andrew stammered, overcome once again with an emotion that he couldn't place. Had she really been right here, right under his nose, the whole time? Might he have passed her on the street or seen her in a shop if he had been paying attention? But he hadn't, had he? He'd been so pre-occupied with the notion that getting out of Denver and from under the ever-watchful eye of Tess was key that he hadn't even considered the possibility. And as he pondered that thought, he wondered painfully if that had not been the idea all along.

Adam studied Andrew carefully before motioning for him to follow. "Hey," he said softly, "are you ready?"

Andrew nodded immediately and followed Adam forward, inside the building and into a dimly lit hallway. As the pair of angels ascended the stairs to the landing of the second level, Andrew was struck by the condition of the place ...trash everywhere, peeling paint, stains on the carpet and walls. More disturbing even were the pungent odors of sewage and marijuana hanging heavily in the damp air. His heart began to thud against his chest with each step and he could only wonder how many more painful things the both of them would have to endure before this was all said and done. As he and Adam approached a door at the end of the dark hallway, Andrew could feel an anxiety such that he'd never felt coursing through his veins, as if his entire existence had led him up to this very moment.

"I'm not being called in quite yet, so you go ahead," Adam said gently, trying to convey through his eyes all the sympathy that he could muster. Adam knew that from this moment on, things wouldn't be easy for any of them.

Andrew nodded wearily and turned away from Adam to face the door. He grasped the doorknob and it turned easily in his hand. With a deep breath, he pushed the door and it swung open to reveal a small, one-room studio. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and he vaguely registered that Tess was sitting in a corner chair. His attention, however, was immediately and intensely drawn to the other corner, where he could just barely make out her still form on the bed. For an immeasurable period of time, all he could do was stand there, his heart hardly beating, his lungs hardly drawing in air.

"Is … she … ?" He whispered hoarsely, finally acknowledging Tess's presence. Tess shook her head sadly,

"She's alive, Baby. But only just ..."

Andrew nodded mutely and stepped forward cautiously, having to restrain himself from racing to her side and force himself forward all at the same time. As he drew nearer, it was easier to make out her shape, to see how she was haphazardly draped across the quilt, one arm flung awkwardly over the side of the bed. He lowered himself carefully to sit beside her, fighting to keep his emotions in check, though he wondered why he even bothered at this point. It was in that moment that he looked up and found that Tess was no longer in the room and they were alone. Not wanting to waste any of the precious time given to him, Andrew gently slid his arms around her and shifted her slightly so that he could hold her against his chest.

"Well … this is not the reunion I had hoped for, Princess," He whispered softly, running his fingers tenderly through her once vibrantly auburn hair. This close to her, he could clearly see the damage done to her physical form. Beyond the more apparent differences to her hair and weight, Andrew noticed smaller changes to her appearance too. Seeing her relatively unchanged for the better part of two hundred years made the slight aging of one year as a human painfully obvious to him. He wasn't sure why this one small detail resonated so deeply with him, but he felt as though he could see every stress and strain that the last year had had on her etched into the fine lines around her eyes.

With nothing to do but look, he began to notice everything else about her condition that had failed to first grab his attention. With every new aspect revealed, Andrew felt as though someone was ripping his heart to shreds, piece by piece. The scars that formed a perfect line up the inside of both forearms, the ragged and bruised veins from the needles, the slight grey tinge of her pale skin, her jutting bones … learning of all that she had done to try and manage her misery was absolutely heart wrenching. He never would have believed this to be true of her if he'd not witnessed it with his own eyes.

"_Why_, baby ..." He asked aloud, his voice cracking with the emotions that he'd been holding back. As the tears started to run, he began to talk to her, not because she could hear him, or because he had anything particularly profound to say in these final moments, but because he could no longer stand the deafening silence. He talked about the day they'd first met, reminisced over their first joint assignment, the first time that an assignment ended less than happily, when they had witnessed the Father reuniting Jake and May Ling, when they first met Audrey and Petey, when Jordan had killed himself and he had felt like a failure and it was Monica who'd set him straight and convinced him to face Molly … on and on he spoke, of memories both good and bad, of happy times that had brought them closer and not so pleasant times that had made them stronger. It was quite some time before he started to feel the subtle changes that signaled that the end was nearer. Her breaths were more ragged and labored, and he could feel her heart thudding weakly against his own chest, the beats becoming fewer and farther between.

"Andrew."

It was Tess's voice that snapped him out of his trip down memory lane. He hadn't even felt her presence in the room and had no idea how long she'd been standing there again. He instinctively tightened his grip around Monica before lifting his gaze to look at Tess, and it was the look in her eyes that told him his time with her was running short. As impossible as it had been to lose her the first time, losing her again was unimaginable.

"Tess," he began feebly, "We … we have to _do_ something, we can't just let her die ..."

Tess was having a world of trouble keeping herself together too, and the pain in Andrew's eyes made it that much harder to remain composed, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to remain strong. Shaking her head sadly, she replied,

"No, baby … there's nothing we can do. We can't intervene in the free will of a human, you _know_ that."

But Andrew shook his head, his overwhelming sadness coming out in anger.

"She's not a _human,_ Tess! She's … she's an ..." He tried to argue stubbornly, but he couldn't finish. He knew the truth, and the truth was that as she _had_ chosen this. He didn't want to listen, but he knew that Tess was right.

"Andrew, listen to me," Tess said grievously, having just gotten Word that the end of Monica's life was drawing near, "Even if we called for help right now … it's too late to save her." It had been too late the moment that the needle from the syringe had pierced her skin. The damage done to her already fragile body was too great to be reversed now, even by the most skilled of doctors.

"It took every bit of strength I had to sit by and watch her do that to herself and then to sit by now and do _nothing_ while I know she's dying … if I could do something, Andrew, don't you know I would have already?" Of course he knew. Andrew had never seen Tess like this before and it was the distress in her voice that made him lose all resolve all over again. Fresh tears began to fall from his already swollen eyes as he looked up and saw Adam standing in the corner, the gravest of looks upon his face.

As the full reality of the moment set in, Andrew found that he could do nothing but cry. Every ounce of sorrow that he had tried to keep inside over the last year came rushing to the surface and poured out. Not even caring that Tess and Adam were witnessing his breakdown, Andrew wept like a baby, his abundance of tears running into Monica's hair like tiny rivers. It was all he could do to remember to breathe.

Tess watched Andrew's outpouring of emotion in a sort of trance, feeling like an intruder to a very private moment but unable to look away at the same time. It was the most heartbreaking scene she had ever witnessed. She felt like she might now understand how it was as a parent to lose a child as she watched Monica's life slip away. Harder still was watching Andrew lose both his best friend and his spirit all over again.

"Tess," Adam said sadly, glancing at a silver watch upon his wrist as he began to glow, filling the darkness of the room with a soft amber light, "It's time ..."

Tears burned in Tess's eyes as she nodded and forced herself to step forward towards Andrew and Monica. Though it was only a few feet that separated her from the pair, it felt as though she was walking for an eternity to reach them. Reaching out a shaky hand, she touched Andrew's shoulder gently and said at barely above a whisper,

"Angel boy, we have to go now ..."

But Andrew didn't move, _couldn't_ move, could not find it within himself to unglue his arms from around the precious one that he held. Though he had known that this moment had been rapidly approaching, now that it was here, he was terrified. Andrew was positive that he simply did not posses the strength it would take to stand up and leave the room on his own.

"No ..." he uttered brokenly, "I can't … you can't ask me to let go, not yet …"

Tess could only pray and beg the Father for strength for the both of them as she gently made to pry Andrew's arms from around Monica's small frame, even as he protested futilely. Fighting to keep her composure yet again, she grasped both of his hands within her own and held them as tightly as she dared, and helped him to his feet. She stood back a few paces to give him some room and just observed.

Andrew knew that this was the moment that he had to say goodbye, possibly forever, but he couldn't for the life of him form any more words. It was as though his voice was dying with her and he just couldn't speak. And so, with all the tenderness and love that he had within his being, he leaned over her and kissed her cheek, her forehead and finally her lips, hoping with all of his heart that somehow, someway she would feel his love and take it with her wherever she was going. With that, and with tears still running from his eyes, he turned away and started for the door. It felt to him as though some force stronger than himself was carrying him forward, keeping him on his feet, steering him in the right direction. He never looked back or stopped, sure that if he did, he would not have had the courage to keep walking away from her.

Tess watched Andrew go, and then glanced back to Adam who had begun to step forward slowly out of the corner. She nodded sadly, both as encouragement to him and reassurance for herself. The moment had finally come indeed, and Tess found herself quite incapable of speaking as well. Following in Andrew's footsteps, she leaned over and stroked lightly through her Angel Girl's hair with the tenderness of a mother's caress, wishing now more than ever that she could have been the one to prevent this from even beginning all those months ago. As she straightened up and prepared to leave Monica in Adam's more than capable hands, she too found herself wondering for all of them just what would happen next.

With one final glance in Monica's direction, Tess could see that Adam was already sitting by her side. Meeting his eyes once more, she nodded and said,

"Godspeed, baby."

And then she turned on her heel and headed for the door, certain that if she didn't go after Andrew right then and try to console him any way that she could, she would lose both of her babies forever.


	20. Chapter 20

_**As always, I thank each one of you who has stuck with me all this time. It means the world. Also, I've deleted my author's note at the start, so the chapter numbers coincide with the labels now as someone mentioned that to be very confusing. **_

_**-Angie**_

* * *

The soft breeze was warm and the sky a stunning turquoise blue on this day in the large expanse of what appeared to be a never-ending paradise land. The straw colored grass was long and reflected the sun in the most exquisite golden hues, and the patches of flowers that grew here and there added a touch of brilliant color to the sea of light. To the right of her, ocean waves crashed lazily in the distance, and to her left, a vast mountain range was bordered by a magnificent forest. Somewhere above her head, a choir of songbird's twittered about, their voices carrying a joyful melody through the fluffy white clouds that dotted the otherwise clear sky.

That she was Home, Monica had no doubt, though her exact location was a place that she wasn't familiar with. It wasn't the gathering place of angels, nor was it God's Country, and as far as she could see, not another soul was present. That she was no longer human was also of no doubt. She had been sure that the consequences of her last actions would have condemned her to an eternity of living among the humans who now called Heaven their home. She hadn't dared believe that she would be returned to her previous angelic status, but the undeniable warmth she felt from the presence of the Father in her heart was beyond question. As she pondered this and all it could possibly mean, she felt a stab of very real pain in her chest from the lingering memories of her most recent stay on Earth. The thoughts were anything but pleasant and there was no denying the fact that she would have to answer for not just her final moments and decision to end her human life, but the entire year and all of her actions that had lead up to that.

There were so many questions running through her mind that Monica had no idea where to begin. The passed 13 months, 56 weeks, 396 days, had been such a dark and tenebrous time for her and the memories of her duration as a human, from the moment she had defied Sam to choosing to end it all, were cloudy with a pain that resonated within her so strongly, it was hard for her to even grasp it. From the way she handled her feelings towards Sam, to simply not caring what he or anyone else thought, to the harmful things she did to her own body, to the way she spoke to Tess in those final minutes of her life … the resounding guilt she felt was positively crushing. She didn't even allow herself to think of Andrew and what he might have said or done because of all this, because of her actions, _her_ weakness. It was all just so much to bear and she was quickly coming to the conclusion that she only had one option if she were to have answers to even a handful of her questions. Looking skyward, she began to speak to her Father, finally, for the first time in over a year.

"I don't even know where to start, but I know that's okay because You know my heart already," Monica whispered aloud, wondering how she could possibly find the right words to convey everything she felt right now. She pushed through the humiliation she felt and fought to continue,

"I suppose the best place to start would be by apologizing. Father, I'm so, so sorry for _everything_. I'm sorry for not trusting you, for being angry, for feeling like You didn't care. I'm sorry for not acknowledging You, for turning away when You wouldn't dream of doing such a thing to me. I'm just so _sorry ..." _she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking with the strained emotion she felt. She was surprised that her eyes were even capable of producing more tears when she felt them burn against the back of her eyes.

"The thing is, Father … I don't know how to be sorry for some things, and so I have to ask … _why_ did this happen? Why, after all these years? Why did this happen to _us_? If angels are only supposed to feel one way for another, why were we made to experience something different if we were only to be punished for it? Father, I'm trying … I really am trying to understand, but it's so hard because I … I _love_ him, and I just don't know how to be sorry for that ..."

Monica turned her gaze away from the Heavens and once again observed her surroundings, searching for peace and comfort in the beauty of the land. Though she longed for an immediate answer, she didn't truly expect one. The Father worked on no one's time but His own, after all. She supposed that now all she could do was wait and see, and hope that she would know something soon.

"The Father hears you, baby."

The voice, the strong, deep, motherly voice of her Supervisor behind her was like music, ringing out through the air in a melody that matched the song of the birds above. Monica couldn't remember a time when she had been happier to hear that voice, though the memories of her last words to the angel who had been like a mother were a slight tarnish to the lift in her mood. She turned slowly in the direction of the sweet sound, and met Tess's gaze hesitantly, nearly positive that she wouldn't be angry, but uncertain just the same.

"Tess, I ..."

Again, Monica was struck with a loss of words and she hung her head with shame. What could she possibly say that would even be close to enough? But Tess just shook her head and motioned for Monica to come closer, holding out her hand in invitation.

"Come on, Angel girl. Let's take a walk."

And so they walked, hand in hand, like old times, for a long while without speaking, in the direction of the ocean. Soon enough, the right words found their way out of Monica's mouth and Tess was merely a sounding board for absolutely everything that was plaguing her swirling thoughts.

"And Tess, I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for the way I spoke to you. Those words, I … I don't even know where they came from ..."

"I do," Tess countered softly, reaching up and smoothing back a stray lock of shining auburn hair from Monica's face, "You were hurting, more than I and probably even _you_ could understand. Pain is a strong thing and sometimes, in the heat of the moment, it can make you say and do things that you don't mean. I felt your words deep in my heart, but I knew better than to be hurt by them. The only pain I felt was a reflection of yours and I felt helpless being there and unable to comfort you. I was hurting _for_ you and I know you're still hurting now. Do you have any idea how much I love you, Angel girl?"

Monica wasn't even trying to hold back her tears now as she nodded. Of course she knew. How could she not? And how was it that Tess was so wise, always knew the exact right thing to say, could always comfort her when she was feeling her worst? How one angel could possess so much love and patience, Monica would never know but would be forever grateful. As she embraced her supervisor, Monica could only thank the Father for Tess's ever-faithful presence in her existence.

"Tess ..." she asked softly, a short time later, looking around again, "Where exactly are we?" Tess smiled and answered,

"We're in a special place for reflection, a place that angels sometimes come when we need breaks. I've been here a fair few times in my existence too, though it's been many years since my last visit. The Father thought you could use some time to think ..." Monica could hear it in Tess's thoughts and so mentally added '_and pray_' to the end of that sentence. Her brows furrowed together troublesomely and she found herself wondering, if Tess knew all this, what else might she know?

"And Tess … do you know about other things too?" Monica asked somewhat shyly, hoping that Tess

would understand what she was asking without so many words. She couldn't bear to say his name aloud, but she was aching to know something, anything, about where he was in all of this.

"I do, baby," Tess answered with a nod, interpreting Monica's question accurately, knowing full well that she was asking about more than just 'other things.' There was still much to discuss and many things for Monica to know, and so as they continued walking towards the beach, Tess began to tell all that she had been told of the situation thus far.

"Angel girl, when you turned away from Sam that day and told him no, you were making a conscious choice to give up your existence as an angel and become fully human. Every angel, just like every human being, has the freedom to make certain choices. We fondly refer to it as _free will_ – I have it, you have it, everyone has it and thus, have the ability to make decisions like these for ourselves. Though it pains the Father greatly when His children make choices that hurt them or lead them into trouble, He allows it because He hopes that we will learn from our experiences and grow as humans and as angels."

Monica wasn't altogether sure where Tess was going with this, as these were all concepts that she knew of already, but that didn't keep her from giving her full attention to her ever so wise and knowledgeable supervisor.

"Now, let's fast forward to the night that you decided to end your human life. You, being fully human and completely mortal, had the ability to consciously make that choice. Though it pained the Father immensely to see you, His child, in such a situation, neither He nor I could stop you from doing what you had decided to do."

At this point, Monica had to interrupt and ask another burning question,

"But … I'm confused, then. How am I standing here with you now, in a part of Heaven for angels, clearly no longer human? I thought the consequence of my choice was that it was irreversible … not something that can be taken back?" Tess considered her thoughtfully for a moment before responding, again with timeless wisdom and discernment,

"Well, I suppose it's because the Father knows your heart and He isn't quite finished with you yet, baby. He must think you deserve a second chance, and who are we to question that, hmm? Besides, you know the Father never passes up an opportunity to turn our mistakes around into something good and beautiful."

Monica took a few silent moments to contemplate all of this new information, her mind churning once again. She found it incredible that she, Monica, just one angel out of thousands, would be given the gift of a second chance. After everything that she'd done and thought over the last year, including throwing her own life away and turning back on everything she knew, this was the very last thing she had expected.

"Tess," she said, many emotions surging through her, "I don't even know what to say. I never would have thought that I … that I'd see you again, that I would …" But she trailed off, because there were still so many uncertain things, things that she didn't dare ask about. A part of her almost didn't want to know what was in store for her near future, as she thought that might be easier than knowing for sure that things wouldn't be changing. She tried to push those thoughts out of her head though, knowing that if she let them linger too long, she might lose her resolve all over again.

The ground beneath their bare feet had turned damp and sandy some time ago, and as Monica gazed out into the ocean's depths, she was once again struck by the pure artistry that was present in her surroundings. The water was so brightly blue, so clear, that she was sure that even hundreds of feet from the shore, she would have been able to see to the bottom. It was just another reminder, as if they even needed one, of how big and powerful the Father was. It was in that moment that she found the courage within herself to request just one more answer from Tess.

"So what happens now?" She asked softly, unable to meet the eyes of her supervisor, "What happens to _us _now?"

At this, Tess hesitated slightly with her answer. Though Monica was renewed physically, she knew that her emotions were still in the most fragile of states. Times like these were when a supervisor's job was the most difficult, when the young angels in their care were touched by a pain that couldn't be eased away with simple words and assurances – when they'd been rocked to the core and changed forever.

"Angel girl, I can tell you that this is far from over and it's not going to be a walk in the park," Tess replied gently, not missing Monica's sharp intake of breath and the look of apprehension in her already fear-filled eyes. "But," she continued, "the rest will have to wait until the pair of you are together. I don't want to have to explain this twice."

Monica found herself lost in confusion at Tess's words for only a moment, and then realization hit her like a brick and it was all she could do to keep herself together, to keep from shouting out loud in relief. These were the very words that she had been dying to hear but too afraid to hope for. Even so, she had to ask for clarification, to be sure that what she heard from Tess's mouth was not some fabrication of her own mind, that she did indeed just say what Monica had been silently praying for non-stop since arriving in this place of reflection.

"Andrew?" She managed to choke out through the large lump in her throat. And as Tess nodded, it was once again all that Monica could do to not lose what little control she had over her shattered emotions. She was, after all, so very tired of being such a hysterical train wreck. Still, it was taking everything she had to remain poker faced and on her feet. She was sure that she wouldn't be able to keep it up much longer, and so hoped that the moment when she and Andrew were finally reunited would be sooner rather than later.

"Yes baby, but I've got to go and find him first, so you just wait right here, okay?"

And just like that, as quick as she had come, Tess disappeared and Monica was suddenly and agonizingly all alone again.

* * *

Though his surroundings were meant to be tranquil, serene, calming, the angelic figure kneeling by the rolling sea felt nothing even remotely close to peace in his heart. Just the opposite, in fact. His once sparkling green eyes held no light, his face was streaked with tears, and there was an emptiness inside that was simply bigger than the strength he possessed within himself to get up off his knees. The pain, the literally physical pain that he felt was incomprehensible, so acute that he was having trouble drawing a proper breath of air, as though his entire chest cavity had been crushed in.

The blonde haired Angel of Death gazed out unseeingly into the depths of the ocean, wishing more than anything that the tide would swell around him and carry him away from the shore and far out to sea. Andrew could remember no time in the entirety of his life that he had wished for death, wished to drown, to be struck by a lightening bolt straight out of existence and into oblivion, until now. He just couldn't get the image of her out of his head, could not erase the picture of her lifeless body so broken with emotional distress and the effects of her attempts to cope with it. Not only that, but the overwhelming feelings of guilt and helplessness were like a twisting wrench in his gut. If only he had been quicker, gotten to her sooner, or better yet, never have let her out of his arms the day this had all started … if only.

And so there he remained, on his knees by the water, replaying the images over and over again in his head, always finding new reasons to blame himself and wish that time travel was possible, that he could go back in time and save her, save them both. He was so encompassed in these thoughts that he didn't notice Tess's presence or hear her words until she was nearly shouting at him to acquire his attention.

"Andrew, for goodness sake, listen to me!"

He was startled certainly, but not by the volume of her voice. He had been sure that the words that had come from his mouth the last time he'd seen her would have been enough to keep her away for good.

"I don't want to listen, I don't want to hear anything you have to say," he replied softly after several minutes of trying to ignore her, much too numb to try to sound angry. He was just too heartbroken to care that, though he had coldly told her that if he never saw her again, it would be too soon, there she stood anyway, just as he somehow knew she would. Tess wasn't good at taking orders from other angels, after all. He felt the remorse and need to apologize tugging vaguely at his heart, but the unbearable grief made it impossible to acknowledge anything else, and he could do nothing but stare off into space and continue to wish for an end.

"You're going to want to hear what I have to say this time, baby."

It wasn't so much what she said, but the tone of her voice that made him waiver in her direction. Anything that she had to say would have to be pretty profound for her to expect that he would _want_ to hear it at a time like this, and so he turned to face her without argument and opened his ears, giving her as much of his attention as his misery would allow.

"Andrew, I know how upset you are right now," Tess began, "and I know that I'm the last person in the world you probably want to see, but you need to pull yourself together and _listen_ to me. I'm only going to say this once, so pay attention."

Tess paused, less for dramatic effect and more to gather her own thoughts together before she launched into a speech very similar to the one she had delivered to another little angel just a short while before. Andrew's stomach lurched painfully every so often, at words and phrases like 'free will' and 'choices' but it wasn't until she started speaking of the Father and His ability to turn horrible things around for the good of His will that he truly started to wonder what on earth she could possibly be trying to tell him.

"Tess, I don't really understand where you're going with this, but please … I can't talk about this. I just can't ..."

"Well, it's not me that you need to talk to anyway, Angel boy. It's never been _me_," she replied pointedly, gesturing to the Heavens above, "and tell me, Andrew – what would _she_ tell you to do?"

Andrew knew of nothing that he'd rather think about less in this moment, but again it was Tess's authoritative stance, knowing look, and tone of voice that made him consider her words.

"You've _got_ to give this to Him, baby," Tess pleaded, a short time later, "you've just got to, because you can't go on like this. All this anger, this hurt that you feel is only going to destroy what little of your soul you have left, you know that. So don't do this for me, don't even do it for yourself … do it for _her_, give it up, all of it, let the Father back in, let him help you ..."

Tess moved closer to his side, and reached for his hand, surprised when he only hesitated but didn't resist her help. With his hand tightly in hers, she helped him up from his knees. He swayed slightly, as though the weight of everything he carried on his shoulders could cause him to drop again in an instant, but Tess kept a steady grasp on his arm.

Andrew looked into her dark eyes, finally seeing an angel and not an adversary, a Supervisor that always knew the right words, and the mother that had been with them through it all. He could feel his heart softening and his anger losing some of its bite as he looked at her sadly, knowing she was right and wondering at the same time how she could ever forgive him for everything that he'd said and done over the past year. But she was Tess, after all, and Andrew had never known another soul who possessed a bigger heart, who took more joy from giving than receiving, with the exception, perhaps, of Monica.

"Tess, I'm so sorry," he said gravely, stepping forward and embracing her, meaning the words down to his very bones, "I know we weren't the only ones hurting through all of this, though I had myself convinced of that many times."

Tess smiled and nodded, returning his hug gladly, forever grateful that the Father had been able to speak through her in such a way that had gotten through to him. She found herself fervently hoping that he would, in fact, take her advice and put it to use.

"It's quite alright, Andrew. I know what it's like to be sad and angry and forget where or Who to turn to … it happens to the best of us, and sometimes, we just need a little reminder is all," she replied carefully, giving his hand another tight squeeze of reassurance.

"So, what now?" He asked searchingly, still grasping her hand in his, fighting against the fear of the unknown building up all over again, "What can I do now?"

"You start praying, baby, and you pray hard. The Father will be listening when you're ready," Tess responded, and there was an ache in her own heart at the sight of him so sad and dejected still.

"And if I might make a suggestion," she added as an afterthought, "many times I've found that a nice walk feels a lot better than just staying in one place when I've got a lot on my mind, and especially when the Father and I have some chatting to do. So why don't you start walking," she said, inclining her head and gesturing east along the shore, "in _that_ direction. You'll know when to stop."

And with that, she was gone and Andrew found himself alone again with his thoughts and his pain. It was only a moment, however, until he realized with a small stab of guilt that he wasn't alone, that of course the Father was always with him, and it was he who had failed to acknowledge that fact before now. Even in the midst of the greatest pain he had ever known, the Father was still there. Though Andrew had all but turned his back on his Father, he knew that at no point would He ever forsake him.

And so he did as Tess said and began to walk along the beach, his bare feet kicking through several inches of salt water as the tide started to slowly rise around him. As he focused on putting one foot in front of the other, he started to let go, to let everything out and pray as though his very life depended on it. There were moments where he shouted, cried, dropped to his knees only to get back up again, on and on for what could have been hours and hours of agonizing questions, begging, and heart wrenching pleas for forgiveness and deliverance, until he could say no more. He just continued to walk, staring at the ground, wondering if he would indeed know when to stop, as Tess had said that he would.

And then, out of the corner of his right eye, he spotted the answer to his question. He might have missed her had he not chosen to look up from the sand in that precise moment. She was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped protectively around them, right in the surf, the tiny waves crashing in bubbling white water all around her. The first thing that Andrew thought was how exceedingly unlike her it was that she be anywhere near the water, let alone in it. The second was how, without a single doubt, she was the absolute most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He longed to call out to her, to get her attention, to make his presence known, but something stopped him, and he just continued towards her at an even pace, not quite daring to believe his eyes, his heart thumping erratically in his chest.

Centuries passed, it seemed, before he made it to her side and it was only then that he realized that her eyes were closed and her lips were moving silently, as though she too were praying like she never had before. He lowered himself quietly into the water to sit beside her and for a moment, did nothing but take her in, watch her, bask in the warmth that her being there brought to his heart. Very slowly, trying not to startle her, he reached out and brushed the palm of his hand against her cheek.

Just like the first time, all those months ago, that she had felt that stirring of electricity spark between them, so now did a shock pass from his fingers to her skin and her eyes flew open in surprise, her heart gave a great lurch, and she was wrapped tightly in his arms not a microsecond later. For an immeasurable amount of time thereafter, Monica knew only one thing – she was safe, finally, protected in his embrace, where nothing could ever hurt her, and she found herself praying that he would never let her go again.

Andrew had no words as he finally, some time later, made to pull away, just enough so that he could look into her eyes, not daring to let go all the way just yet. He was sure that no words would be fitting anyway, nothing he could say would ever be enough to convey just how much he loved her, how incredibly thankful he was in this moment. He could only hold her as his heart swelled to the brim with a joy that he had thought he would never feel again. Like a sip of water in the middle of a desert, a lifeboat in the middle of the sea, she was his calm after the storm.

Monica' looked away from his face and fixed upon a spot just below his chest, slipping her hand into the right inside pocket of his jacket, where she knew the golden watch that he'd carried as long as she could remember would be, and pulled it free, studying the clock face, watching the hands tick away the seconds, each one a moment of precious time. Before returning her gaze back to his, she closed her hand over the timepiece, her maple colored eyes shining with emotion. At last, it was she who broke the silence as a lone tear slipped out and she said softly, her voice just a breath of air on the wind,

"You're late."


	21. Chapter 21

_**Long time, guys! As always, it seems ... thanks for sticking around. You all are the best! I am truly sorry for the lengthy delay, yet again. **_

_**Hope everyone is well and that you enjoy this chapter!**_

_**-A**_

* * *

Monica's words hung in the air and several seconds of silence followed as Andrew contemplated what to say in return. He found himself struggling to string together the thoughts to even form sentences in his head, let alone speak them aloud and so he was grateful when she spoke again, buying him a bit more time to find the right words.

"I've been waiting here, expecting you, hoping, and still … I can hardly believe you're here now," she whispered, bringing her forehead to rest against his, reveling in the closeness and comfort that just being near him brought to her. For many years, she had been able to count on him to soothe her worries, fears, anything at all that caused her distress or pain and this quality about him was especially obvious to her in this moment. Though there were still many things to worry about, the peace that his presence brought to her heart was enough that she could look passed the uncertainty and not be so afraid, at least for a small while.

"I really hope I don't wake up," she added as an afterthought, pulling away again to study his face, her brown eyes filling with tears again at the memories of countless nights where she _did_ wake up and he was gone all over again, the pain as fierce and raw as it was the moment they were first separated. Andrew's brows knitted together and he brought his thumb to her cheek to swipe away a tear, loathing how evident it was that she was still hurting, despite being here together now. It was then that he finally found his voice.

"You're not dreaming," he said sadly, "I can promise you at least that much." In truth, he could promise her nothing because their situation was precarious and not one thing was certain. Though he longed to just pull her into his arms and promise that he would never let go, promise that nothing could ever take her from him again, promise that she would never hurt … he couldn't. All he could do, all _they_ could do, was try not to question too much and just enjoy these moments that they had been gifted.

As the minutes continued to tick by slowly, Andrew noticed more and more things about Monica that were just slightly different from before. Her hair was longer, fuller, just slightly lighter. Her skin, though still quite fair, was just a bit darker, as though she'd spent a day in the sun and her complexion had been kissed by the rays. He had noticed straight away that the evidence of her time on Earth was completely erased and the slight changes in her appearance made him certain that her human form was brand new. The scars and bruises were gone and her bones were no longer visible the way they had been last time he'd seen her. Andrew had been sure before that she couldn't have been more beautiful, but seeing her now proved those thoughts to be false. The angel sitting before him was the epitome of beauty and he found himself almost in awe of the priceless work of art that she was.

"I can't get the picture out of my head … of you, laying there ..." Andrew continued finally, his voice thick with restrained emotion "and … the only thing I could do was hold you and … and I had to leave you and I knew you were dying … I don't know _how_ I walked away."

There was a beat of silence as Monica gazed at him in absolute horror, having not anticipated that he would have been allowed to be by her side, let alone bear witness to her final human moments.

"Andrew I … I never meant for you to see … you … were there?" She stuttered, tears continuing to seep down her cheeks and he again took her into his arms, holding her as tightly to him as he could.

"I was there," Andrew replied softly, his fingers running nimbly through her long hair, "as long as I was allowed, I stayed with you. Until Adam came to do his job, I stayed. I thought that losing you the day that Sam came was the worst day of my existence, but I was wrong …"

Monica pulled away from his embrace and hung her head in shame as she struggled to breathe through the sob building in her throat, unable to speak of the atrocities aloud. Looking back, she almost couldn't believe herself capable of such things. How many times had she lead her own assignments away from doing exactly what she had done? How many times had she been the one to console Andrew when he had come from an assignment who didn't choose to live? And this time, it had been she who had committed the most selfish act, she who had purposely put him through something that she knew was a source of great pain for him. The weight of the guilt she felt for that, for all the things she'd done, was heavy on her heart.

"Andrew ..." Monica said softly, sometime later, "I'm so sorry I didn't wait for you, I should have trusted you and I ..." She trailed off as more tears threatened to fall from her maple colored eyes. Andrew again felt the sick feeling of hatred in his gut for all the misery she'd seen in the last year. It didn't seem just that she had faired so much worse than him, though when he thought about it, he hadn't truly expected anything different.

"Please don't apologize for that," he whispered back, agonized, wishing more than anything that he could take her pain away and make this whole thing go away, "there is nothing you need to apologize to me for. If I had only gotten to you sooner, maybe I could have done something … either way, it won't change anything."

She looked back to him then, starting into his deep green eyes, taking him in. For thirteen long months, all she had wished for was this moment and now that it was here, now that _he_ was finally here with her, she felt almost helpless in his presence. It was undeniable how hopelessly she was in love with him still. And on top of that, the shame she felt, and the fear of what was to come sat in the pit of her stomach like a block of ice. The feelings of peace and tranquility that she had immediately felt when Andrew had first taken her into his arms was rapidly being replaced by a growing sense of apprehension, so much so that she thought she might be physically sick.

"Being with you again is all I've wanted every day for the last year," Monica whispered, leaning back into his chest, "but I have to admit that I'm really not sure what to think about all this. I tried asking Tess but … she wasn't very clear about that part."

Andrew managed a small smile at the mention of their supervisor.

"Well," he replied, "as much as I would love to stay right here forever and never let you out of my arms again … I think we both know that that's not an option. And by the way … as much as I'm enjoying sitting in a foot of ocean water with you, what gives? Last time I checked, you were terrified of the water."

He was attempting to lighten the mood just a fraction and it worked, for a moment anyway. Monica looked around bewildered, as if seeing the surrounding water for the first time, and then she laughed. It only lasted a second and then it quickly faded into a look of sorrow.

"I guess when you've been through the worst thing you can imagine, irrational fears like this seem silly," she said, splashing her hand through the salt water as if trying to push it away from her. She turned her eyes to meet his and he could feel that she was suddenly very uncomfortable.

He stood and then reached for her hand to help her to her feet as well.

"We should probably find Tess," he said quietly. She gripped his hand a little tighter and nodded as they splashed through the shallow surf and headed up the beach.

"She's usually not far away," Monica said, and sure enough, within a few seconds, Tess's figure was visible in the distance. Andrew slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close as they made their way towards her. He could feel her small frame trembling with anxiety ever so slightly.

"Hello babies," Tess said warmly when they arrived at her side, "you two together certainly is a sight for sore eyes."

Andrew leaned over to kiss the top of Monica's head in an effort to reassure her, but didn't break eye contact with Tess as he did.

"Tess," he acknowledged her cordially, nodding his head in greeting. Though all was forgiven between them, as per their conversation earlier that day, she could hear the slight edge and uneasiness in his voice. This wasn't going to be easy for any of them, including her. She didn't want any more distress to fall upon the pair of them, least of all by the news she had to deliver now.

"You both know how much I love you, I hope. I wish that I could tell you that everything is going to be fine, that we can all resume our normal existences and this whole thing could be forgotten, but I think we all know that things simply don't work that way," Tess began steadily, wishing that she possessed the answers that they wanted to hear.

"Even given the recent circumstances, the issue at hand has not changed. The reality of the situation is plain – the Father is unyielding on this matter. His instructions are very clear. A relationship of this nature is impermissible between angels."

Monica was already shaking her head confusedly before Tess had even finished her sentence.

"Then why, Tess?" She pleaded weakly, "I don't understand why this happened to us if we were just going to be punished for it! I … asked the same question of the Father, but He hasn't answered me ..."

Tess sighed heavily and continued forward with her speech.

"I know you questioned Him baby, and I have an answer for you, though it may not be the answer you're looking for exactly. The Father created you both with hearts as big as the sky, with compassion and love being your main ingredients. You are His children in the truest sense of the word and He wants nothing but the best for His children. However, He wouldn't be the loving Father that He is if he kept all of us in a glass house. Just like his human children, He instilled within His angels a sense of free will. He loves us more than His own existence, but we are not bound to Him with anything more than our own wills to be so. We are free to make choices, mistakes, and to learn and grow, just like humans. For each of His children, human and angel alike, the Father has a plan and a will for us but that plan, due in part to our free will, and in part to circumstances that we face every day, is often changed in light of decisions and choices made along the way."

Andrew was trying his best to listen to what Tess was saying objectively and he was making an effort to not become frustrated all over again by her words. It was all things they both had heard before, things they knew already. This was 'Free Will, 101' once more.

"Tess, please ..." he countered dejectedly, "how does any of this apply to _us_? How are we going to move forward from this point? _That's_ the question, here ..."

Again, Tess wished more than anything that she had a solution for them, but she didn't. There simply _wasn't_ an easy solution here.

"I know that this doesn't make much sense to you, babies, but it's just how it is. The Father created you, and He shaped your hearts, but He doesn't control your feelings anymore than He controls your actions. Humans make mistakes and judgement errors everyday because they _can_. Their imperfections are what make them fully reliant on a Father who loves and forgives and teaches. The same is true for angels. We have our callings, our instructions, our assignments to take care of, but sometimes our feelings can get in the way and cloud our judgement. Just like humans, we are capable of making mistakes and, in turn, we must be responsible for ourselves and right our wrongs."

Monica was at a loss with Tess's reasoning of the situation. She was right – it didn't make sense, and it hadn't made sense from the very beginning. But all she felt after listening to Tess was more certain that no matter what they did or said, a resolution that would take this pain and uncertainty away was not on the horizon for them.

"I guess you're right, Tess ..." Monica murmured tearfully, her voice but a whisper, "my heart is just too big for my own good right? My emotions are getting in the way again? I can't look at Andrew and see just another angel, just a friend … I look at him and I see everything, my whole world, and everything in it, and I love him _so_ much that I don't even have words to explain it and … it doesn't even matter! It's just a mistake that I have to be responsible for and somehow get over and move on from because it's clouding my judgement? I can't do that, Tess, I … don't know how to do that ..."

Andrew was grateful that Tess was quick to respond. Monica's words had once again left a lump in his throat that kept him from being able to speak. He thought his heart might literally burst from the adoration that he felt for the little angel standing beside him.

"Angel girl, I wish I could understand what's in your heart, but you know that I can't. I don't know how many times I can say that. You and Andrew have something special, something different. No one is denying that now. We can all see it. However … the rules are the rules and they won't be bent for the two of you. The one consolation in all of this, hopefully, is that you get a choice this time. Obviously, separating you forcefully wasn't the answer … so now it's up to you to decide."

Andrew's heart lurched in his chest at Tess's last words and he wondered if they might finally be coming to a conclusion with this conversation. As much as he wanted to know what she was getting at, he was equally terrified to find out just what she was implying.

"Decide what, Tess? What choice do we have?" He managed to keep his voice steady as he asked the question, instinctively tightening his grip around Monica again, as if holding her as tight as he could would somehow shield her from feeling any more distress over all this.

Tess took a moment to take a few gulps of air, trying to steady her own voice before delivering the final piece of information to the angels that had always been so precious to her, who had always been like children to her. After this, she knew that none of their lives would ever be the same. Everything would change, one way or the other, all over again.

"You have two options, babies, and you need to listen carefully," Tess explained, her tone wavering just slightly,

"Option one is to remain together. If you choose to do that, you will both be consciously giving up your status as angels and will be made fully human, mortal, and on your own on Earth. You would have no contact with anyone in the realm, including me. The one exception to that would be if, as humans, you ever required the help of an angel, at which time you would be the assignment, much like Monica's recent experience."

"Option two," Tess continued on the same breath, "is to remain angels. However, if you make this choice, things don't go back to how they were. You will both be assigned new departments to work in and new supervisors to work with. Your first year will be probationary and you will have evaluations every three months. Contact with other angels, including mutual friends, as well as myself, will be limited. And … contact with each other, in any capacity at all, will be expressly forbidden. The Father himself will ensure that your paths never cross again."

Monica wasn't sure what she had been expecting to hear, but she was certain that if it wasn't for Andrew's arm tightly around her, she wouldn't still be standing. She turned away from Tess and looked at him, her alarm and confusion mirrored in his eyes.

"I … um ..." Monica tried to respond, to say something, anything, but she was already choking on another round of sobs that literally stole her breath. It was all Andrew could do to keep himself together, for her sake. After all they had been through, it had finally come down to this … an impossible decision that left them to choose between losing everything they had ever known, including their identities, or losing each other forever.

"You don't have to decide right away, you have some time," Tess added. "I have to go now, babies. I love you both and I hope you know that this wasn't my decision."

And then Tess was gone and they were alone again. It was like the day they were first separated a year ago, the day Andrew found out that Monica fell, the day she first started using, the night that he all but had to watch her die all together as one, all over again … and somehow worse. Andrew had never before seen Monica so hysterically emotional before this. It was his first real glimpse into how every day of the last thirteen months had truly been for her. He did his best to lower her gently to the sandy ground when it became obvious that standing was no longer an option. He again felt absolutely helpless to do anything but hold her and try to comfort her as best he could.

"A-Andrew … what … what do we do, what do we do ..." she gasped, clutching at his shirt so tightly that her knuckles where white, her eyes wild, her words almost illegible. It was unfathomable how things could be turned around so completely, so fast. Here they were again, faced with the unimaginable. No matter what they chose, they would be dealing with an enormous sacrifice.

For Andrew, the choice was clear, but he knew that the experience that Monica had just come out of would make choosing to be human again extremely harrowing for her. So truly, he was at a loss as well.

"Shhh, it's ok ..." he whispered, trying to soothe and console, but knowing full well that she probably wasn't even listening, "it's alright, it'll be ok … we'll figure it out, I'll figure it out …"

Though he said the words for her sake, he also said them in an effort to convince himself that all would indeed be alright, somehow. But if he was being perfectly honest with himself, he had never felt more incapable of making a proper decision in his entire existence than in this moment.


	22. Chapter 22

_**It seems as though my 'mojo' did indeed continue! As always, I'm hoping this update finds you all very well. Just a note for this chapter - I am once again enabling that 'T' rating. In the description, I said from the beginning that this story was rated what it was due to certain plot elements and adult-ish themes in later chapters. So just be reminded of that before reading this one. Enjoy :)**_

_**-A**_

* * *

Andrew could only continue to hold Monica, doing his best to calm her, as a seemingly endless supply of tears continued to ooze from her eyes. It had maybe been an hour since Tess had left them with this news, an hour and still he could think of nothing else to say to reassure her, nothing that would even come close to being enough. He simply didn't know what to think or do about all this. On the surface of the issue, it seemed like a no-brainer for him. Given the choices at hand, he already knew which one he would choose, in a minute. Losing her again was not even an option in his mind. He had known that months ago, when he wondered if it would eventually come down to this very thing. It was almost harder this way, he thought, having the choice in their hands. Either way, they had to live with their decision and this time, there was truly no going back from it.

"It's getting dark," he said finally, looking around, "we should probably go somewhere." He had noticed the sun falling steadily from the sky in the last hour, but hadn't mentioned it, wanting to give her time to calm down, even if just a little. But there was no more time for that now. Even in paradise, the sun had to set and there were no buildings or shelters as far as he could see. The temperature seemed to be falling as well, so staying where they were was probably not the best idea.

"The log house in the woods," Monica replied numbly, answering the question that he didn't even need to ask.

Andrew lips turned up in a small smile and he squeezed her hand tightly, helping her to her feet. No sooner had they stood and thought of the small mountain cabin, they were there on the door step. The air was cold and crisp and heavy with the scent of burning wood. On the door hung a wreath of evergreen and holly, the same wreath that had hung there a year ago. Inside, in the corner of the living room, the same christmas tree stood. Memories of the previous season flashed through her mind, beautiful images of roses, and late night chats and snow-filled clearings in the woods. It all seemed so long ago, so far removed from where they were now.

Monica had been so preoccupied with her life and surviving it, she hadn't even realized it was nearing Christmas. Looking around the room, she noticed the tree, the candles over the fireplace, the tinsel twisted around the banister of the stairs … everything was exactly the same, untouched, as if no time had passed here. Even the scent of Tess's thanksgiving dinner filled the room, as if it was only hours ago that it was prepared. She found the thought both comforting and profoundly sad. Sinking to the sofa, she stared at the twinkling lights nestled in the tree for an immeasurable stretch of time, her eyes glazing over, shining with tears again at the thought of all that had transpired in the last year and what was still to come.

Before joining her on the couch, Andrew busied himself with lighting a fire. It was drafty in the cabin and he hoped the light and warmth would be comforting for her. He knew that she was overwhelmed with thoughts and emotions, but Andrew grew more and more troubled as the minutes passed. She hadn't spoken since they left Home and he didn't want to push. But they were going to have to talk about this at some point, sooner or later, and it wasn't going to be easy for either of them, but especially for her. She shifted her eyes to the building fire and seemed to be mesmerized by the flames. He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a bit longer, trailing down her jaw for the briefest of moments.

"Talk to me," he said softly, ignoring the swoop of his stomach at the feel of her skin beneath his touch, "it worries me that you're so quiet."

Monica turned her gaze to Andrew and opened her mouth to say something but then just shook her head and looked back into the dancing flames again, a shiver running up her spine. She closed her eyes against the odd fluttering in her stomach, the heat from the brush of electricity, and sighed heavily. There were just so many things that she didn't understand, and not just about the situation at hand. Being in this house, remembering last year … there were thoughts and feelings that she hadn't had a handle on before, and with Andrew so close to her, it was obvious that she didn't have a grip on them now either. There were things that she was feeling in that moment that she couldn't even begin to explain.

"I'm … I'm s-scared, Andrew ..." she said at long last, looking back at him, her voice wavering. He knew why, or he thought he did anyway, but he played along, noticing a look in her eyes that he couldn't place. There was something different there, something darker, like a reflection of the fire on the hearth. He longed to be able to read her mind and decipher precisely what was going through it.

"Tell me," he said simply, stroking through her hair again. He hated to see her like this, so upset and on edge and uncertain, "Tell me what you're scared of."

"Everything ..." she whispered, "I'm so scared of all of this. I-I don't know what to think or … what I'm supposed to feel … I'm just … I'm scared of losing you again, I'm scared of the thought of being completely human ..."

Monica paused and took a deep breath. His green eyes were fixated on her and she found herself almost dizzy from the intensity of his stare, like he could see into her very soul.

"I'm … um …" she stuttered, trying to piece together her thoughts, "I'm scared of … of how much I love you, still … it scares me and … and I'm scared that you're going to sit here all night, looking at me like that and … not try to kiss me."

There was a very slight smile pulling at the corner of her mouth at those last words and it wasn't a moment later that Andrew bent his head and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her soundly, effectively rendering the both of them breathless. Monica noted to herself that with his lips against hers, his breath sweet and warm, she could finally, gloriously breathe. After the longest year of her existence, she could breathe and she was alive. Very suddenly, she knew _exactly_ what it was that she was feeling.

They broke apart for just the briefest of moments and then he was kissing her again, deeper, tangling his hands in her long hair. Andrew could feel something stirring within him, something unfamiliar but strong. Much too quickly, it seemed as though he was falling under a sort of spell, his thoughts blurring together, his head going cloudy and it wasn't until he felt her hands running across his bare chest that he even realized she had unbuttoned his shirt. It was enough to snap him out of his temporary trance.

Trying to keep his head on straight and remain ahold of his ability to be logical, he stopped her before she could push the shirt over his shoulders.

"Whoa … hold on," he whispered, trying to reason with her, "we shouldn't, this … is not a good idea, … we've crossed the line as it is ..."

"What _line_?" Monica argued back, hypnotized by him, unable to truly focus on what he was saying, "we're already in trouble, who cares ..." All she knew in that moment was that she had never wanted anything like this before, that she had never wanted anything like she wanted him. Appropriate for an angel, or not … she wanted him.

Andrew was at a loss, finding it extremely difficult to gather his thoughts. This was not a conversation, or argument rather, that he ever could have imagined having with her. On the one side, he completely agreed with her … they were already in trouble, had already been forced apart, been dealt a fate worse than death. So what did it matter, really? A very big part of him wanted to forget his reason and take her upstairs that very minute, but another part of him knew that tempting fate like this was very high on a list of ill-advised actions. Not to mention, there were certain logistical facts in all this that he simply couldn't ignore.

"I just …I love you so much, I don't want to hurt you," he said softly, brushing her cheek with his thumb, his voice laced with concern. He didn't want to say it out loud, but obviously neither of them had done this before. The thought of causing her any pain or worse, regret, was not a comforting thought. And on top of that, if he was being completely honest, he knew it wasn't exactly the honorable thing to do. She was upset, vulnerable and emotionally wrung out. What kind of man did that make him?

"And not just that," he continued, swallowing a lump in his throat, his voice hoarse with apprehension, "I don't want anything to jeopardize this time that we have … at _any_ moment someone could be by to check in on us, and what then?"

But Monica was already shaking her head before he had even finished, drawing him down for another kiss, taking the lead, capturing his lips with her own.

"I don't care about them, I don't care about any of it ..." she said breathily against his mouth, pressing herself closer to him, "even if it's just for a night, I just want to forget, please Andrew …"

Once again, Andrew was finding it a challenge to remain in control of his ability to argue with her. The fiery look blazing in her eyes was one of complete and utter desire and he had never seen her this way, looking at him like that. He could feel it in the way she kissed him, the way she responded to his kiss, it was all just a little less innocent, a little more raw, a little more human. She was not the same angel that she was before. She was changed forever by her experiences over the last year, no longer shy and unsure, but open and wanting.

"Look at me," he demanded softly, breaking away once again, taking her face in his hands, "I need you to say it, out loud, that this is what you really want. I won't do it otherwise, baby, I need you to be absolutely sure ..."

Monica had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at him and smiled slightly, her gaze smoldering, burning a hole into his very being. "I'm positive," she whispered in reply, "I want you, all of you. I've never been more sure of anything. Please, Andrew … I _need_ you."

Against his better judgment, and with a groan of longing, he leaned back into her, kissing her fiercely again, unable to deny her that which he also wanted beyond his capability of understanding. Taking her hand in his, he lead her up the stairs to the room which had always been his when they stayed here. It was dark save for the moonlight streaming in through the window and Andrew shut the door lightly, not bothering to turn on any light. Stepping behind her and encircling her waist with his arm, he pushed the hair away from her neck and laid a series of soft kisses there, breathing in her sweet scent, nearly drunk off of her. He couldn't quite believe how much he wanted her too. It was all so real in that moment, how very drastically things were about to change for them, yet again.

Slowly and with great care, he started to unclothe her, piece by piece, tenderly running his hands along each new area of uncovered skin, making her shiver and sigh periodically until there was nothing left in his way. Taking in the sight of her standing before him, Andrew could hardly believe how perfect she was.

"God, you're beautiful ..." he whispered and she flushed at his words, gazing up at him, her brown eyes wide with trust and love. He guided her through removing what clothes of his remained and then pulled her close again, savoring the warmth between them, the skin to skin contact alone enough to take their breath away. He brought his lips to hers again in a languid kiss, tightening his hold around her, and slowly guided her backwards towards the bed, lowering her gently. With her hair fanned across the pillows, she was a vision of beauty against the white linens.

With infinite tenderness and exquisite attention to detail, Andrew began laying delicate kisses along Monica's jaw, moving down her neck, tracing a course along her collarbones. Once he started, it was like he couldn't get enough of her. He left no part of her untouched, wanted to leave no inch of her skin unclaimed by his lips, tasting her, drinking her in, all but worshipping her like the priceless treasure that she was to him. More than once, he had to take a moment to just gaze at her, to steady his breath and slow his racing heart. She was literally intoxicating him, making him feel things that he never even knew that he could.

It was all Monica could do to lie still beneath him, occasionally having to remind herself to breathe. He was literally stealing the air from her lungs, setting her on fire, turning her to molten lava from the inside out. There was a constant stream of soft gasps and murmured words from her mouth, which only seemed to fuel the work that Andrew was doing with his.

"Andrew ..." she said urgently after what felt like a small eternity, her voice a whispered plea, grasping at his shoulders and attempting to pull him back up, her need for him reaching a heightened state, "Please … now, I need you ..."

One last time, Andrew searched her eyes for any sign of doubt, fear, or uncertainty. All he saw in them was a turbulent passion, love and desire for him, which he knew was reflected in his own eyes. Without breaking eye contact with her, he pushed forward slowly, whispering his own words of love and reassurance as he did. The briefest look of pain flashed across her features, and Andrew was loathe to see it, but it was quickly replaced with one of contentment when they were finally fully joined. Monica couldn't help but to let out a sound that was something between a moan and a sob at the precious union. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on tight. She couldn't focus on one thing other than the feeling of Andrew moving against her. It was like nothing she could have imagined, being with him like this, his rhythm smooth and infinitely gentle but sending her to a distant place, touching her soul. It was no time at all that her breath began to catch more frequently and she thought her heart might beat out of her chest, an unnamed sensation building up from within. With a cry of pure bliss, Monica seemed to fall off an imaginary cliff, her very being splintering into a thousand pieces, Andrew's name but a quivering breath on her lips.

For a few moments afterwards, Andrew could only stare at her, beautiful brown eyes drooping half closed in complacency. Smoothing the hair away from her face, he gathered her into his arms and shifted slightly, pulling her close, their faces just millimeters apart.

"Tell me you're okay," he pleaded softly, suddenly worried sick, the full reality of what they had just done beginning to set in, "tell me you're not sorry we just did that ..."

She just smiled and shook her head.

"Are you kidding?" She replied in a whisper, reaching up and tugging her fingers through his short blonde locks, "that was … I don't even have words, of course I'm not sorry. How could I be? I love you Andrew. I love you so much … I – wait … are _you_ sorry?"

"Of course not, baby," he admonished quickly, "I love you too, I wonder sometimes if you have any idea how much … I just worry about you regretting this later, and who knows what the consequences could be ..."

At the word 'consequences,' Monica sat up abruptly and shook her head, her brows furrowing together in the middle, a look of consternation crossing her delicate features.

"No," she demanded quietly, "stop that right now, please I can't stand for you to say that. Please don't ruin this perfect moment talking about consequences and regrets … I could_ never_ regret what we just did, ever. Do you understand? And please stop mentioning consequences … this is about you and me … not them. I don't care what they say … I love you and I won't be sorry for that."

She was forcing back tears and Andrew felt the burn of emotion in the back of his own eyes. He knew that she was right. No matter what happened tomorrow, or the next day, or a month from now, they had each other now. He reached up and stroked his thumb across her cheek and then pulled her down to him, kissing her with all the love that he possessed, fully intending to make her his once again.


	23. Chapter 23

_**It's literally been 7 years since I started this story and I would just like to thank those of you who have stuck around this long. It means the world to me. Hope you all are well! :)**_

_**-A**_

* * *

Much later, Monica leaned back against Andrew's strong chest and sighed with contentment as he finished shampooing her hair. He had insisted on running her a bath and she had agreed with a smile, but only if he joined her. They had already spent nearly an hour in there, reminiscing and talking about anything and everything that wasn't their current situation. Much like Andrew had done the night she had ended her human life, they talked of passed assignments and memories and shared stories. The time that they had spent working together seemed like a lifetime ago. So much was different now, so much had changed.

"This is so perfect, being with you … it feels so right," she said softly, snuggling further into his embrace. For the first time since this had all begun all those months ago, Monica felt like she could breath easy and not focus on all the negative things, if just for a short while. In that moment, she felt whole and warm and so wonderfully loved. The thoughts of separation, consequences, and choices to be made were miles and miles away.

"It certainly is," Andrew replied, pressing a kiss to the side of her face, his heart swelling with love for her. He was positive that if time were to freeze in that instant and he never did another thing but hold her and love her, he wouldn't want for anything ever again. She was everything to him, absolutely all that he needed.

"I could stay here forever," she mumbled sleepily, echoing his thoughts out loud. The bubbles had all but dissipated and the water was beginning to turn cold when Andrew finally suggested they get out – staying precisely there forever wasn't exactly an option, as nice as it sounded. And whether she would admit it or not, he knew how exhausted she was, emotionally and otherwise. It was nearing dawn by then and he knew that sleep would do them both some good.

Andrew took her hand and helped her out of the bath, wrapping her up in a huge fluffy towel, and when she was dry, he slipped a big t-shirt over her head. From the smell of the fabric against her skin, she knew that it was one of his.

"It's a good look for me but … don't you think I'm a little overdressed?" She mused, turning and reaching her arms around his neck, grinning and planting a soft kiss to his lips. He had been so good to her, always, but it was especially obvious to her tonight how incredibly loving and gentle and compassionate he could be. She knew that she would never be able to truly express just how thankful she was for his presence in her existence over the years, or just how much she loved him now. She felt a twinge of grief in her heart at the mere thought of anything else coming between them, but she tried her best to push the idea out of her mind. She couldn't let herself go there, not tonight. Not when things were so unbelievably perfect.

Andrew couldn't help but laugh at her attempt to change his mind about sleeping. He stroked his fingers through her damp hair and sighed, still getting used to the many things about her that were so different from before, though he couldn't say truthfully that he didn't like them. She let him towel dry her hair and comb it out smooth. There was something so sweet about the simple act, him brushing out her hair, Monica had to blink back tears.

"You are precious and beautiful," he said softly when he was finished, kissing her cheek lightly, "but I can see how tired you are. A little sleep never hurt anyone, not even an angel. And the shirt, well … I just want you to be warm."

She thought about arguing, but knew it wouldn't do any good. She _was_ tired, after all.

"Okay," she agreed, "but you better stay with me the whole time. I won't be warm otherwise, even in your shirt ..."

"Of course, baby," Andrew replied with a chuckle, "I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else."

* * *

Monica awoke sometime later to sunlight streaming through the bay window of the bedroom. The first thing that crossed her mind was that she had slept soundly, dreamlessly for the first time in a long time. Andrew was still asleep beside her, his arm draped across her, keeping her warm. The light coming through the window was illuminating the golden locks of his hair and she was momentarily mesmerized by how handsome he was. His evenly tanned skin, strong muscles, chiseled features … everything about him was perfect. She took the next stretch of time while he slept to just study him, admire him, feeling incredibly lucky and blessed that, even if it was for just a short while, he belonged to her.

Try as she did to keep thoughts of their situation out of her head, she couldn't help that her mind was wandering. Thinking about the impossible decision they had to make made her want to be sick. How in the world would they choose? Quickly, tears began to form and fall from her eyes at the very thought. As if he could sense that she was upset, Andrew woke almost immediately, alarmed to find her in tears.

"What is it, what's the matter?" He asked, his voice full of concern. Though he didn't say it out loud, he was suddenly terrified that she was indeed regretting the previous night, or that he had hurt her somehow, but she was already shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, it's nothing …" she replied, hating that she'd made him worry, "I just … I don't want to think about losing you, Andrew, especially now. Last night was more perfect than I can say … I can't imagine walking away from this, from you ..."

Andrew didn't waste another minute getting her into his arms. It had been too good to be true, their small respite from tears and heartache and hopelessness. All the happiness and bliss of being together now didn't change the fact of the matter, and that was that they had a choice to make. They couldn't ignore it and just hope that it went away.

"We have another choice," he reminded her softly, pulling away to look into her eyes, "we would be together, we wouldn't have to walk away ..."

Monica didn't answer for several minutes, her mind a whirling pool of uncomfortable and unwelcome images. The passed year had had a radical impact on who she was, how she saw the world, what she thought of it all. She truly would never feel the same about being on Earth again. She was having a difficult time of making sense of it in her own head, let alone communicate these thoughts to Andrew.

"Andrew … I don't know if I could do that again ..." she said, looking away from him, "I didn't handle it so well the first time, I was a mess ..."

He knew it was the last thing she wanted to talk about, but they would have to discuss it at some point. Prolonging the inevitable didn't make it any easier. He could see that, for reasons that he couldn't understand because he hadn't experienced it with her, she was terrified of the idea of being human again. He couldn't exactly blame her, he knew it had been more than rough for her, obviously. It seemed like every time the subject was brought up, even talking about it was painful for her. Knowing what she had been through, what she had felt, how alone she had been made his heart physically ache in his chest.

"It wouldn't be like that this time, baby, I'd be with you," Andrew said, trying to reason with her, "every step of the way, I promise."

"You can't promise that," she argued stubbornly, shaking her head, "as humans, we can't predict the future. We wouldn't be protected from illness or … or death. And then what?"

Monica knew that thinking that way was not helpful, but she just couldn't shake the fear from her mind. The thought of being human, vulnerable, and on their own was beyond frightening. She had made that choice before in a moment of defiance and weakness. When it came right down to it, she hadn't meant it at all. She knew in her heart that if they were to make this choice, she would live a life constantly fearing that at any moment, something tragic could separate them forever again.

"Come here, come with me for a second," Andrew said after a few moments of thought-provoking silence. He had an idea.

"Okay," he began, taking her hand and pulling her up out of the bed, "picture this – a morning, just like this one, sunlight shining through the window. I wake up and the most beautiful woman in the entire world is laying next to me. Even though I want to wake her just to tell her how beautiful she is, I let her sleep because I can't bear to disturb that sweet, peaceful look on her face. I stumble sleepily to the shower and get dressed for work and when I emerge ten minutes later ready for the day, she's already gone downstairs."

Still ahold of her hand, Andrew lead Monica down the stairs and into the kitchen of the cabin. Turning towards her, he continued,

"I follow the smell of coffee in the air to the kitchen and find her there with her hands folded around a steaming mug and a grin on her face. I take her in my arms and kiss her good morning and see that she's attempting to make breakfast. As sweet as she is for that, I take over because, well … cooking really isn't her strong suit. Over eggs and toast, or pancakes and bacon, we talk about her plans for the day, my projects coming up at work. She lets the dog out and reminds me of the time, she doesn't want me to be late again. I ask her to join me for lunch around noon, because for once I won't be in a meeting. I kiss her again, tell her I love her and I head to the office, already counting down the seconds until I see her again. My morning drags and my mind wanders. It isn't soon enough that she peeks her head into my office with a smile and asks if I'm ready to go. Though our visit is quick, it's enough to recharge me and gets me through the rest of the day. I send her off to her afternoon yoga class or book club meeting and tell her that I'll be home by six with steaks to grill and a bottle of her favorite red wine."

Andrew paused his narrative for just a moment and stepped closer, tucking a strand of her long hair behind her ear, his lips turning up in a lop-sided grin.

"So, I get home and as promised, I've got steak and wine and she greets me happily, as if I've been gone a week, not just a day. Immediately, she launches into a story about her wonderful afternoon, chattering away about a new friend she made or activity she signed up for as I get the steaks ready for the grill. I let her fix the salad and soon enough, we're enjoying our meal, toasting to my upcoming promotion and the three day holiday weekend. She meets my eyes over her glass of wine and I am captivated by her, sure that no one on this earth has ever loved another person as much as I love her. Later, I take her upstairs and show her just how much, loving her from head to toe. You see, we've been trying for a baby and … well, practice makes perfect. Before I fall asleep, I tell her one more time how much she means to me and as I drift off, my last thoughts are a prayer of thanks to God that I have been blessed to have her and another that I have the gift of waking up the next morning to do it all again."

By the time he had finished, tears were streaming from Monica's maple colored eyes. She couldn't seem to help but cry as his words fully sunk in. She was nearly overcome with emotion as she tried to process all that he had just said. It certainly sounded extraordinary, the way he told it. Waking up each morning to each other, a normal life … having a family. He knew that she had always entertained thoughts of having a family. She'd be lying outright if she were to say otherwise.

"Andrew, I ..." she started to reply, the words to express what she was feeling not coming so easily. Very suddenly, she was overwhelmed with the urge to get outside, to get some fresh air. Turning on her heel, she fled the room, grabbing a jacket off the coatrack by the back door on her way out. Ignoring Andrew's call after her, she took off at a jog towards the walking path in the woods, desperately needing to be alone with her racing thoughts.

Of all the things that he could have said to make her second guess _everything_, he had nailed it right on the head. There were two things of which she was certain. One, walking away from her existence as an angel, willingly, giving up the only life she'd ever known save for the last year, was an undeniably terrifying idea. And two, losing Andrew forever was even more terrifying. Especially now, especially after what they had shared the previous night, after the picture that he had just painted for her of what their life together as humans could be like.

"Father, please ..." she whispered aloud finally, her voice hoarse from the pent up emotion, "I _don't_ know what to do, I still don't understand any of this. The choices we have … I can't seem to get a grip on one or the other. I just … I need some guidance here, please. I – I need help deciding, I feel trapped between two choices that I can't even make sense of ..."

Her prayer was more of a plea. Truthfully, she felt utterly incapable of deciding something so significant. Even with Andrew right there by her side, the confusion and panic that she felt over all of this was suffocating. She hadn't felt so alone and helpless since …

And then, as if on cue, the memory came to her like it had happened yesterday. An assignment, long ago, that had changed her, that had helped her see things differently, had helped her to learn how to trust when she felt like she had nothing and no one who knew or understood. All of the sudden, it seemed as though her mind was flooded with thoughts of this one particular assignment and she couldn't shake it, try as she might to push it away and focus on the here and now. A peculiar idea, both unwelcome and fascinating at the same time, was rapidly forming in her head. She was so wrapped up in it that she didn't even realize Andrew had joined her until his voice cut the air and interrupted her dilemma.

"Monica, I'm sorry … I didn't mean to upset you with those things I said, I was just trying to … to help," he said with a sigh, unsure of what to say next. He didn't know what kind of reaction he had expected, but it hadn't been that. He had simply been trying to give her an idea, at least his idea, of what they might could have together if they chose to be human. He hadn't meant to scare her and judging by the bewildered look on her face right then, he had done just that. It was several minutes after that when Monica was able to focus on him and found her voice.

"No, please don't apologize … you said nothing wrong, Andrew. It's me ... I'm just … I – I don't know what to say, I've just been thinking about … um ..."

She felt like she couldn't get it together, that she was incapable of speaking what was on her mind, yet again. And right now, with him standing there, looking at her like that … should she even share this idea with him? It was crazy, outlandish, she couldn't believe that she had even thought of it.

If Andrew was confused in the slightest by her words, he didn't show it. Stepping forward, he wrapped her up tightly in his arms and held her close.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me, you know that," he said softly, pulling away just slightly, "but can we go inside? You're freezing ..."

Monica hadn't even realized that she was shaking from the cold. She nodded without speaking and he grasped her hand in his and lead her back to the house. She hadn't managed to go very far, only a few hundred feet into the tree line. Once inside, Andrew found a blanket and tugged it around her shoulders, trying his best not to let the look in her eyes trouble him too much. Something was definitely on her mind, something more than just what he had said. He sat down on the sofa, pulling her down with him, and took her cheek in his hand, green eyes boring into her soul.

"I wish I could read your mind, baby … but I can't. Please tell me what you're thinking," he begged her, desperate to know what had gotten into her to make her act this way.

She hesitated briefly, taking a deep breath to stave off the overwhelming urge to be sick. She was not at all sure of what she was about to say.

"Do you remember, Andrew … the assignment that I had that time at the bus station, when I temporarily lost my memory?" She asked him, her voice only just above a whisper.

"I do …" he replied softly, narrowing his eyes, wondering what she could possibly be getting at by bringing up something that happened so long ago.

"I remember feeling so alone, not knowing who I was or … what I was doing there," she continued, ignoring the twist in her stomach, "and remember, you were sent to help me and … I didn't even know you, like we had never met ..."

"I remember," he said, looking at her curiously, "that was hard, I … I hadn't thought about it in years."

"I know, me either," she continued, looking away from his piercing gaze, "the Father, He … He did that, He took my memory away so that I could learn something, about trusting Him when I felt alone ..."

Andrew was doing his best to follow her, trying not to look too confused. An odd feeling had started to settle in his stomach at her last words but he was trying to ignore it.

"Right ..." he said, playing along with her, "but I have to admit, I'm a little lost. What exactly are you trying to say here, Mon?"

She turned her eyes back to meet his, trying to keep her voice steady and her lower lip from trembling too much.

"I'm saying that … maybe we don't have just the two choices, maybe there's another way," she answered, not pausing to give him time to reply, "Andrew … I know that the Father can take my memory of you away, He's done it before ..."

Andrew wasn't quite sure that he had heard her right. She couldn't have said what he thought she had just said. He stood up and paced a few feet away, dragging his hands through his hair and sighing heavily. Turning back to her, he shook his head in astonishment.

"You _can't_ mean that, Monica … "

Hot tears slipped down her cheeks again, her heart lurching painfully at the look on his face. In that moment, she wished that she could take the words back. Somehow, she found the strength to continue.

"Andrew … being human again is simply not an option for me, I can't do it; even if you're with me, not having the Fathers love in my heart is not something I ever want to experience again. I wasn't created to live like that and … and neither were you. But walking away from you forever, especially now feels impossible. I – I couldn't, there's no way. But if … if He can take my memories away for an assignment, He can do it again now. He can take our memories of each other away so that we don't have to make this decision. It would be like … like we'd never met all those years ago … "

It was a physically painful thought for him, thinking about not knowing her. He very nearly couldn't remember a time in his existence that she wasn't a part of. His first instinct, first gut reaction was a resounding 'no.' But once she said it, the gears started turning in his own head. For several long minutes, he could only look at her incredulously, unsure if she was crazy or an absolute genius. Missing her over the last year had almost destroyed him and it had literally killed her. Being apart was not an option, not after everything they'd been through up to now, and being human, even together, was not an option in Monica's mind, he understood that. Though he wished with every fiber of his being that she would try, he couldn't consciously talk her into doing something that scared her so much.

"Don't you see, Andrew … " she whispered, "if He says yes … it's the perfect solution."

After a beat of silence, in which Andrew felt as though the world might fall down around them, he stepped back to her side and took her face between his hands and kissed her hard, deep, leaving her breathless for the hundredth time in the last two days.

"Okay," he whispered back, tears burning in his own eyes at the very thought, "let's ask Him."


End file.
